


Her Name

by Dragon_Mage



Series: They Are Called Family [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Family, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 130,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Mage/pseuds/Dragon_Mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BLU Spy tries to turn his relationship with the Soldier around. That is interupted when his best friend, the Sniper, brings his problems to his metaphorical doorstep.<br/>A story about mercenaries changing from a set of fairly indifferent teams, to a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love and Snipers

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Allies in Love. I will be making minor references to that story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy and Soldier try to have a week together.  
> Sniper is getting shot at in Melisa's house. He has to save his girlfriend.  
> Sniper goes to Spy for help. Vacation crashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not seen or read Allies in Love, this story might not make sense.

August 2005

The clear and crisp daylight made driving perfect. This was a perfectly planned out week. Administration had already approved the requests for the week off, and both Spy and Soldier were on their way for a vacation.

It had been five months since Andrew had returned to Spy’s life. They had not been as close as they once were. They were working slowly on their relationship, with most of the focus being on the Soldier.

Each day was something different. Being around Andrew felt like a refreshment for Spy. But each day was a slow and arduous recovery for Andrew’s mind. Some days, Spy worried the man would forget his own name, or maybe forget that he was in a battle while he was rocketing through the air. Other days he worried about the visions he was having, the voices he heard and the insertion of words into his mind. And then there were the black outs, which were less frequent but still a threat, especially when Andrew became emotionally unbalanced.

“You packed everything you need, right?” Spy asked.

“Yes,” Andrew nodded.

“Are you sure? The Medic put you on new antidepressants, didn’t he?” Spy pressed, his eyes still on the road.

“Yes, I have plenty for the month,” Andrew assured him, with an irritated tone.

“I’m just trying to be sure,” Spy chuckled.

“You worry too much,” Andrew stated.

Spy just chuckled and shook his head in response. Many days were like this, where Spy pressed and pressed while Andrew just folded his arms and huffed about Spy being a mother hen. It was a nice feeling though, to be this concerned about somebody. And every day, when the worrying was over, Andrew held his heart in his dear hand. He held him close and made his worries disappear.

They drove through the mountains and took in a wild view of the world around them. It was beautiful, especially knowing that a private trip waited ahead. They would have all the time allotted to a week to spend together, without worrying about other teammates finding out or daytime duties.

There would be no fighting, no weapons, no nothing. Of course, Spy had to work to avoid anything that would reveal secrets to Andrew, but that was part of the job – his new job, as assistant handler. He had had to submit extra paperwork to Miss Pauling, just to get permissions for Andrew to leave the perimeter of the base temporarily.

Six months of a headache were worth it. It was all worth it for this wonderful week. Spy already had big plans for them.

The drive took nearly four hours before they arrived at an old cabin. It did not take too much to rent. Spy had decades’ worth of salary saved up – what was spent had been on suit tailoring and imported cigarettes. So the old place was affordable for him, if expensive compared to the economy.

“That’s a pretty lookin’ cabin,” Soldier stated.

“You like it?” Spy asked, with a smile. In the back of his mind he was checking off things to do.

“Remote location. Beautiful view. A cabin all to ourselves,” Andrew checked off some mental list, “Are you planning to propose?”

Spy was immediately taken aback. It was rare that Andrew was cleverly humorous, but it was delightful all the same. He gave a laugh for the joke.

“Hoping to make you my husband for life,” Spy teased as he laughed. He started unloading baggage from the trunk. “Make you wear a ring that ties you to me.”

He looked over at the Soldier and his heart gave a fluttering pound and then skipped a beat, before pounding again. It had been five months since they were reunited, so they had had a lot of time together. Very little of that time had been spent romantically. Their relationship up until a few weeks ago had been a friendship. He had been more joyful to get to rub Andrew’s back than he cared to admit.

He hoped that this week would be the advancement of everything. Everything would change, with no cameras, no other mercenaries, and plenty of time together. They could just focus on their relationship and where it is going.

“You don’t seem like the housewife type, but you make a mean breakfast, even if it _is_ French,” Andrew chuckled.

Spy went along with it, “I never hear you complaining.”

Andrew helped him with the larger pieces of luggage and they headed inside. Spy was aghast at the inside of the cabin. It looked nothing like a cabin, rather it appeared to be a home. It was fully furnished, had a working heating system with a thermostat, and even a full kitchen.

“Would you look at that?” Andrew’s teasing tone increased, “That kitchen looks perfect for you!”

“Says the man who’s taken it up as a hobby,” Spy poked at him verbally.

“It’s a good thing for a Soldier to be able to feed himself and his fellow men,” Andrew stated proudly.

Spy approached the thermostat to find a laminated list of how to’s pasted to the wall. It described the thermostat, the electric fireplace – whoever heard of such a thing? – and something called a robo rooter that was in the closet. He would follow the instructions later, because his eye had followed Andrew to the half-log steps leading to the second floor where the bedrooms were. Eager thoughts filled the back of his mind, but he shoved them back to offer his friend some help.

They unloaded the luggage into the main bedroom and then decided to explore the cabin. Spy took the time to search for any ‘bugs’ which Joshua – the Demoman handling BLU – had warned him about. He did not hide what he was doing from Andrew. He was a Spy, so it was a part of his job to be paranoid, and a part of his nature to be careful. After a brief explanation, Andrew started looking around with him, even though he was not sure what he was looking for.

When he was certain that they were not being Spied on, Spy relaxed and strolled over to hug Andrew from behind. They could do whatever they wanted in all of this space now. And there was nothing and nobody to be wary of.

He breathed a pleased sigh as Andrew rubbed the forearms wrapped around his neck. He stood there quietly while Spy hugged him. Maybe he was starting to realize the reality of their vacation too.

“Do you really think of me like a housewife?” Spy asked. He was not really that serious about the question, it was meant to jest.

“No no,” Andrew took one arm and pulled Spy around him. He planted his feet in front of Andrew as the shorter man took him by the waist. “Too much chest hair,” Andrew teased with a chuckle, “Besides, I imagine you’d make me dinner to get me into bed. Then you’d make me breakfast so I would do it again.”

Spy smiled broadly, letting all of the joy show on his face, “I can never get anything past you.”

 

It was nice to be held like this. Spy could just enjoy Andrew’s company, his warmth, and his love for hours. Unrestricted, they could go anywhere and do anything. It did not take long for Andrew to think up the idea of and talk Spy into doing a small hike with him.

After a couple of hours hiking in a suit, Spy gave up. Andrew ended up carrying him halfway back, which was a bit emasculating. When they returned though, finding himself being carried to a couch was a bit entertaining, especially when Andrew plopped down to seat himself with Spy in his lap.

“Happy?” Spy asked, picking the bits of tree sap and leaves from his suit, “Now I have a ruined suit.”

“I’m surprised you made it so far in those shoes,” Andrew stated.

Spy shrugged, “You get used to them.”

Andrew grunted as he shifted Spy off of his lap. He was surprised, but did not object when Andrew shifted him so that his legs were on his lap. The man went straight for his leather shoes, tossing them off carelessly with the socks to rub them. He definitely was not a massage therapist, so the whole time it was just Andrew playing roughly with his feet.

After a while, Spy interrupted him, “How about I reciprocate?”

Andrew looked down at his own legs, then back to him, “Your legs are in the way of mine. I’m fine just doing this.”

“Take your boots off and slide your leg around mine,” Spy commanded.

He was only a little surprised his order was not met with more stubbornness. Andrew kicked off his boots and tried to slip out of his socks before pulling one leg up and under Spy’s legs. He brought it up against the couch, until Spy could bring it up to his own lap, the calf crossing over his thigh. He was pleased to hear an immediate response from the other man. He gave a wicked grin and a snicker at hearing him groan.

It did not take long for him to notice how open Andrew’s legs were. His free foot was so close to him, it was too perfectly set up for him to plan. He went with it as if it were the plan, moving his toes to a sensitive area. Andrew yelped in response, grabbing both feet to hold them still.

“Don’t do that!” Andrew exclaimed.

“Why not?” Spy asked, both playfully and with devious tone.

“You know why not!” Andrew’s face grew red.

Spy held back a new wicked grin, “It just seemed appropriate to reciprocate a massage with another massage. My foot isn’t doing anything else.” He shrugged, in a nonchalant manner.

“You’re walking yourself into a war, son,” Andrew warned. He had such a serious tone that Spy wanted to laugh.

“Maybe I want to walk into war,” Spy said, sitting up, “Maybe I want to run into it at full speed.”

“This is dangerous territory you’re heading into,” Andrew growled.

Spy allowed his mouth to twitch, as his eyes narrowed. He looked at Andrew through his eyelashes, “I’m armed and ready.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Glenn!” Sniper was startled to hear his darling’s voice and rushed to her side.

“What is it? Is it the baby? Are you in labor?” he asked, eager to help.

“Nooo!” she started laughing at him. One hand absentmindedly rubbed her belly, which was already pushing out her belly button. “I cannot reach the clothes I dropped,” her other hand motioned to the floor, where a couple of Glenn’s button up shirts had fallen at her toes.

“I’ll get that sweetheart,” he quickly bent to grab them, draping them over his arm, “I’ll finish the laundry. Why don’t you go sit down?”

“Glenn, I’m pregnant, not crippled,” she chuckled at him, “Besides, I need to be up on my feet a while. It’s good exercise!”

“I’m able to do my own laundry,” he protested.

She giggled at that, “The big bad Sniper is able to iron his own shirts, is he?”

Feeling a bit challenged, in spite of the jest in her tone, Glenn walked over to the ironing board and started setting out a shirt over it. “Yea,” he stated.

“Okay, you iron the shirts and I’ll fold your pants,” she giggled without restraint, “Deal?”

He chuckled at her and nodded. She liked doing things together. It made her feel like they were a couple. It made Glenn feel helpful and like he was part of something better. For near a half century, the only thing he felt he was a part of was that team back on base. Since the recent additions to the team, he felt a little ostracized, as many of the new mercenaries’ traditions clashed with the old ones. He liked some of them, but much of what they did seemed really weird and outlandish. He would have chocked it up to them being in Mexico for so long, if he had not been to and seen how Mexican life was like himself.

“Are you still going to be okay with the move?” she asked, “It’s pretty far from base. If anybody had an emergency, they’d be hard pressed to get a hold of you.”

“I’m sure they’ll hold down the fort just fine,” he stated, as he shifted the shirt to iron another part of it, “Besides, it would not be vacation time if they could get a hold of me. I want to get away from them.”

“You know, I’m surprised they are letting you have more time,” she said, with a little accusation in her tone.

Alarms went off in Glenn’s head. His hackles rose and he tried to keep his head down. He did not want to talk about why Mann Co was permitting him to take out more time. She did not need to know. She should not know. That was not something he could talk about with her, not without worrying her to death.

“That Miss Pauling must be working overtime to get you guys your fair share,” she said, with delight in her voice. He breathed a sigh of relief at that. “I mean, any other workplace would have given you at least a couple weeks a year long ago,” she said with slight disbelief, “But, I guess when you’re dealing with-”

She cut off as bullets pelted wall in front of her. She let out a scream, throwing her arms up and falling backwards. Glenn’s first instinct was to take cover, but he fought it to grab Melisa. He wrapped his arms around her middle, between her breasts and her belly, pulling her out of range of any shooter.

That was a sniper shot, he thought. His hackles had risen beyond return and he was in fight or flight mode. Everything in his body wanted to grab his gun and find that sniper going after him. But seeing the woman in his arms, he had to flee.

“Melisa, stay low,” he kept his voice low, “Grab the emergency gear and let’s go.”

“What about you?” she sounded so scared.

“I’m getting the guns,” he told her. He gave her a little push so that she would move.

Without further prompt, she started crawling along the floor, keeping her head down. Glenn had planned for these kind of events, and they had packed emergency kits together. They had never needed them until now.

More bullets pelted the wall, but none of them found their mark. Glenn leaped from where he was to the door Melisa was going to, he had to find the guns. A bullet whipped by his head, trying to get to him. He narrowly avoided more bullets as he ducked into the hallway and charged off to find the shotguns and his trusty rifle.

It was an old refurbished thing, the rifle. Of course, he needed the shotguns and ammunition just in case. Melisa would _want_ to be armed, even if Glenn did not want her in the line of shot. To lose Melisa would be heart breaking. To lose her now, with the baby, would be too much for him. Equal rights be damned, he would protect his girlfriend.

As he came back to the room, stepping carefully past Melisa, he surveyed the windows. He found himself a spot next to one of them and used his scope to search. A few more bullets shot past him and he ducked aside.

“Glenn! Don’t get hurt!” he heard Melisa call.

He did not respond, scooting to the next window. He scoped again, searching for that sniper. He had to find him and down him so they could get away. There was no way they were getting out of this building with a sniper aiming for them.

“Come on,” he growled, “Come on.”

He found the man just in time. He had been searching for him in turn through the windows of a building with higher windows. A bullet shot past his ear but he ignored it, it was do or die. He let off the shot and the other man’s head jerked back. He faltered before his body collapsed from the window.

Sniper smiled in triumph before he hurried to help Melisa retrieve the emergency kits. He pulled her to her feet and hurried her out the door to the camper. They would need a living situation on the go, so her car would not be enough.

“Where are we going?” she asked, with fear in her voice.

“I…I dunno yet,” he told her before closing her door. He tossed the emergency kits into the living quarters before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Glenn,” Melisa laid a hand on his arm as he took the wheel, “We have to know where we’re going.”

He could see her expression out of the corner of his eye. She was so scared, pleading for an answer. She wanted an answer as to where they would go, but secretly she wanted to know what was happening and why. She deserved to know why, he knew that, but he could not tell her.

“We’re going to see Spy,” he stated as he pulled away from the street side parking area.

The Spy he was talking about was evident to her. It was the only Spy he would talk to. He was Glenn’s best friend, more than just a colleague. And there was no other Spy that Glenn trusted more than his best friend. She did not need any clarification as to whom he was talking about.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was really making him work for it. It had been several hours, and they were both only shirtless. It was driving Spy crazy, but he was a patient man. He would work his way up the way the Soldier wanted him to. Still, it did not help that that very Soldier was slobbering all over his shoulder, driving him more than a little over the edge.

Caught up in bliss, he almost did not notice Andrew’s large hand sliding down to his pants zipper. He smirked, but pretended not to notice as the other man struggled with the button, his fingers unused to prying a button without a helping hand. It was almost delightful to note how much concentration Andrew needed and how impatient he became when the struggle became so real.

It all came to a sudden end when a truck’s engine came up the drive. Andrew gave him a look, which he returned with a perplexed one of his own. They paused for silence, listening carefully as the engine died.

“Are you expecting somebody?” the Soldier asked.

“No,” Spy replied. He shimmied to an angle at which he could see out a window, but he could not see the truck that had pulled up.

Boots stomped quickly up the wood porch steps and a fist battered at the door. It sounded like desperation and fear, or perhaps anger. It set off alarms in Spy’s mind. He could not wrap his head around who could have found him here in the first place. There could not be anybody who knew he was up here, unless he was followed without knowing about it. That could not be right, because there had not been another car for miles on the drive up here, and nobody had followed them, he was sure of that.

“Spy, are you in there?” Glenn’s familiar voice made Spy wince.

Andrew started with a flinch, “That sounded like-”

Spy put a hand over his lover’s mouth and shimmied out from under him. He would have to deal with this for now, not sure of what the Sniper wanted. Already, the man was battering at the door once again, trying to get Spy’s attention.

“Toss some of these things out of view,” Spy instructed.

He headed to the door, opening it to find Sniper’s fist about to beat on the door again. The man’s entire body relaxed and something like despair fell over him. He opened his mouth to speak, with a pleading look on his face, when his jaw suddenly closed. He looked Spy up and down and froze as might a deer in headlights.

“Glenn, what are you doing here?” Spy demanded. A quick glance around the taller man’s shoulder revealed that the camper was in the drive, but had not pulled all the way up to the cabin. In the passenger seat was Glenn’s girlfriend, heaving and panting heavily. “I told no one of this place,” he stated, turning his eyes back to Glenn’s, “How did you find me?”

“You left me this address in case of emergencies!” Glenn protested with frustration, “You said you’d be gone a week!”

“Yes,” Spy admitted, remembering on their little chat from about two weeks ago when he was planning this vacation, “But, I did not think you would use it.”

“Well, I’m here,” Glenn stated firmly, “And I have an emergency.”

Spy glanced around him at the woman in the truck. She looked like she was hyperventilating. And given the shape of her body, he figured her current situation was not a healthy one.

“I need to talk to you,” Glenn’s voice turned to one of begging, “I need your help.”

Spy turned, motioning to Andrew, who was chucking their shirts behind the couch. He would have laughed if he were not more focused on the Sniper. “Andrew, why don’t you put a shirt on and see if Melisa is alright,” he suggested. Andrew nodded silently, picking up the one he had discarded to button it.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Glenn protested.

Spy put a finger against his mouth, “Hush. Just shush.”

He waited while Andrew put his shirt on. He waited and gave Andrew a nod as the man passed through the door. He waited and watched the other man approach the truck, before he took Glenn by the arm and pulled him inside.

“What has brought you to disturb my vacation?” Spy demanded, as he picked up the discarded clothing. If Melisa was here, he was not going to hide them behind a couch, that was absurd.

“We’re being hunted,” Glenn answered.

Spy spun around, appalled at the explanation. He would have said something, but his tongue became caught between French and English. He settled for a silently questioning expression.

“Melisa and I,” he answered the unspoken question, “I think they were looking for me. They’ve seen her though. They know she is with me. And they know how to get to me through her.”

Glenn bit his lip, fighting back tears. He pulled off his yellow tinted aviators, looking down at them with something like regret. So much regret sat in those eyes that Spy wondered just what had happened to them before arriving here.

“She can’t know though,” Glenn sighed.

“She cannot know what?” Spy raised an eyebrow, “That you’re being hunted? Looks like she knows already.”

“Oh, she knows,” Glenn put his glasses in his front pocket, “It’s the…reason…I’m being hunted that she does not know.”

He gave Spy a strange look, glancing at the clothes in his hands. Spy rolled his eyes and moved to the next room to chuck the clothes into the wash machine. He would do a load of laundry later on.

“You’re not going to put on a shirt?” Glenn asked.

Spy rolled his eyes again as he turned to face him squarely, “I’m a man. Stop being squeamish about it.”

“I mean, you never take your shirt off,” Glenn stated, “Ever. Not even when it’s extremely hot. You just rely on respawn to take you out when your suit causes you to overheat.”

“You’re not going to get over this, are you?” Spy gave him a curious raise of the eyebrow.

“What exactly did I interrupt?” Sniper gave him a curious squinty eyed look. His eyes widened and he threw up his hands defensively. “Don’t answer that! Just don’t!”

Spy rolled his eyes again, with a sigh, “The important matter at hand, Glenn?”

The Sniper shook himself, “Right. The Sniper.”

“What Sniper?” Spy questioned.

“The one that shot at us at Melisa’s house,” Glenn explained.

“I see,” Spy rubbed his chin for thought. He eyed Glenn for a moment, considering him and his options. “First step would be to secure a safe house for yourself and Melisa.”

Sniper took a quick look around the house, raising his hands to lean against the top of a doorframe, “This is safest place of any.”

Spy sighed and rolled his eyes again. Great, there went his vacation. There went his well-planned arrangement of renting a cabin in the woods and spending alone time to get closer to Andrew. There went a week of solace.

“The following step would be to locate any evidence,” Spy went on, “Witnesses, bodies, or anything that could lead you to who sent the assassin.”

“Damn,” Sniper rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, “Left the guy’s body back at that building across the way.”

“You left his _body_?!” Spy exclaimed with disbelief, “I thought you said you were being hunted!”

“We are,” Glenn said, with a passive and apologetic tone, “Just that first guy they sent took my bullet before he got the line up on me. Was pretty easy. But he almost killed Melisa.” He winced visibly at that thought. “I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her and the baby all at once,” he shuddered visibly this time, “I love her, and every day she makes me grow more attached to that baby. It ain’t even born yet!”

“Well, we don’t know who wants you dead yet,” Spy noted, “So let’s start with some basics.” Sniper nodded in agreement, but said nothing. “Who have you been working for?” Spy said, with a cautious tone.

Sniper took a sharp and sudden breath, “Mann Co.”

“Don’t fuss with me,” Spy snapped with a clip tone, “I am not going to take bullshit!”

“It’s true,” Sniper rubbed his neck again, “I’ve been taking side missions from them. They still have some enemies, you see. They gotta keep things cleaned up so nobody reveals their secrets to government officials. Been…been doing ‘em with vacation time as compensation.”

“You’ve been doing side jobs for Mann Co so you could get more vacation time?” it was not really a question, just a statement, as Spy rolled this thought through his mind.

“Yea,” Sniper shrugged, “Most of ‘em turn out to be simple escort jobs. Get a man from point A to point B alive. Then you get the message that notifies you of an extra bit of vacation time. That varies from a week to four months, depending on the job and who you’re working with. Too many departments in the company to keep track of them. But if you were looking into doing that, I could put in a good word for you.”

Spy waved off the idea dismissively, “Glenn, focus. Who have you made enemies with recently?”

“Not many jobs required killing,” Glenn shrugged, “One was an escort job that ended badly because of thugs. A couple of them were sniping jobs. But those did not go too badly. I didn’t think I was caught.”

“You’re not as stealthy a mercenary as you think you are,” Spy shook his head.

“What do you take me for?” Sniper scoffed defensively.

Spy raised a silencing hand when he heard two sets of feet heading up the porch. He looked to the front door to see Andrew guiding Melisa gently into the living room, towards the couch, where she could sit down. No doubt Andrew had already forgotten that they were beyond kissing on that couch just ten minutes ago.

“Glenn,” Melisa called for her boyfriend as she settled on the couch, “What are we doing? Where are we going?”

The man opened his mouth to respawn, but Spy cut him off, “You’ll be staying here for now, Melisa. Just until we can figure everything out.”

“Glenn, why’d you have a woman in the heat of battle?!” Andrew suddenly set off, as if affronted by the Sniper.

“What?” Sniper gave him a confounded look.

Spy glanced between the two as he stepped around the couch. He was trying to stay just behind Melisa, out of her immediate view. He was aware that he was still shirtless. Around other men, sure. But Melisa was a woman and he would only be seen as a gentleman by her.

“You shouldn’t have a woman of her condition in the line of fire!” Andrew exclaimed.

“Soldier, that’s not-” Melisa started to defend her boyfriend, when she managed to catch a glimpse of Spy out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes shot towards him then her head whipped away, her face turning red.

“I didn’t take Melisa to any such place,” Glenn protested.

“Sniper she’s pregnant! You can’t have pregnant women getting hurt! You know what could happen?” Andrew demanded angrily.

“She was at home!” Glenn scoffed, offended and confused that the Soldier was fussing at him, “We were at home!”

“Andrew, that’s enough,” Spy intervened, “I’m going upstairs to set up the guest room. Glenn, make yourself at home.”

He paused to point at the two men, while Melisa was not looking. He mouthed the words _be nice_ before he headed up the stairs. Already he could feel the tension building up in the house, between his friend and his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am working on the following chapters, but I have limited internet access at the moment, so I cannot post as often as I usually do.
> 
> Stay tuned for more.


	2. A Fretful Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper and Spy worry a lot.

As night rolled in, the cabin became cold and quiet. The thermostat kept the house at a decent temperature, once it was set, but Spy decided to light the fireplace. It was a pleasant aura, letting light flicker over the living room, reminding it that it was somehow lively and livable. If not for the added guests, it would have been the perfect romantic setting for him to bring Andrew into his arms again.

“Thank you, Spy,” Melisa said suddenly.

He turned his head to look at her. At the corner of his vision, he could see Sniper moving into the kitchen after Andrew, where they were arguing about how much sugar was appropriate for a drink. Andrew enjoyed knowing so much about cooking, and all of the things he had learned in the past few months, but he never really drank tea. That would be something that Glenn would rather trust the Sniper with, except that the Sniper did not know how to properly sweeten a coffee with two sugars.

“It’s…I’m sorry we’ve ruined your week away from work,” she said, with the most apologetic look to her. She paused to shift her legs, tucking them in under a blanket on the couch. “I’m sure you were looking forward to this. I mean, Andrew was,” she shrugged, a bit awkwardly.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, “What do you know of this?”

She shrugged again, her cheeks turning a bit rouge, “Glenn didn’t mention anything. He hasn’t said much to me since we got here either. Andrew has been talking quite a bit though. Kinda let it slip.” She gave him an awkward little smile, like she knew a dirty little secret.

He furrowed his brow with suspicion, “And what more do you know?”

“Not much,” she admitted, “I…” That mischievous smile got a little bigger. “I had a sneaking suspicion you two were…a thing…but I didn’t want to make any assumptions. I’m sorry I-we interrupted your time together.”

He hesitated, taking her words with a nod. He was not sure what to make of her reaction. She was smart enough to figure things out faster than the Sniper. Still, he felt a little surprised that she was not as bothered by the finding as the Sniper was.

Her smile faded a little, “But…that man…the man who shot at us. Do you think he’ll come for us here?”

Spy hesitated at that. Come for them here? Sure somebody might come for them here, if they figured out their location, but surely she knew that the man was dead. Perhaps Glenn was protecting her from more of the truth than Spy knew. This inescapable truth being hidden from her bothered Spy, so he shook his head.

“The assassin is dead, but if they discover you here, they will send another,” Spy explained.

“Oh…” she blinked at him, “How do you know if he is dead?”

He hesitated, his eyebrow wanting to rise with curiosity. He needed to be patient with her, he knew that. She was not a mercenary. She might like hunting and shooting. She might be an outdoorswoman with all of the survival instincts of an older era. But, the woman was not the kind of human to go out and kill a person, and then hide from those who would retaliate. She knew nothing of what their work was like, the real mercenary work.

“Trust me,” he stated firmly, “He is dead.”

She gave him a small nod, but there was concern in her eyes. She looked like she might break down or something. Spy was not sure what more to say to her though. If he kept talking, he could just ruin the calm mood of the room, or just give her more information than she could handle. It was bad enough that so much stress was being put on her mind, with the stress of a pregnancy on her body.

But human or not, caring or not, any assassin worth his mettle would kill a pregnant woman. Without hesitation or second thoughts, whoever would come for them would kill Melisa too. She was a witness and a problem for their crime. If Spy was going to help protect Melisa, then he had to protect Sniper too, which meant he had to get to the source of the problem. If only he could get the man to be more specific with details about the work that got him into this mess.

“I’ll trust you,” she said after a long silence, “Glenn trusts you. So will I.”

He nodded to her at hearing that. It was a slightly comforting set of words to hear. At the same time, the spying instincts in the back of his mind told him this was bad. She was too trusting and too quick to be easily persuaded. An enemy could take advantage of that quite easily, which could lead them to the Sniper quickly.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The night rolled in and Glenn found himself scrunched up in bed with Melisa. The bed was not meant for two people, so he had proposed that he sleep on the floor. He would not sleep on the couch, not leaving her alone. But, Melisa had protested, demanding that he stay on the bed too. He wondered if that was only because of her concern for his comfort, or if she was afraid to be alone.

He could normally sleep anywhere he liked, but he was having a hard time sleeping now. Next to him, her head rested upon his arm, Melisa was already snoring lightly. It was cute the way she snored, until her breathing got bad and the snoring became a buzz saw sound.

Above her breathing, he could hear the chirping of crickets, a song of the night in nature. It was a beautiful sound that normally would have lulled him to sleep, even if he was trying to stay awake. There was nary a time in his history of sniping when this night time chorus of critters did not put him to sleep.

The soft shuffle of sock covered feet came from outside the door and he heard a gentle tap tapping. He shifted across the bed, carefully moving Melisa’s head so he could remove his arm. Being used to him escaping for a bathroom break, she took it into stride, barely stirring as she shifted in her sleep.

He moved carefully towards the door. He wished he had socks on now, as they would have muffled his feet. He made do by padding carefully across the bedroom to the door and slipping out through a small crack he made for himself. He was careful to close the door quietly, before he turned to face the Spy.

He found that he was being scrutinized from head to toe. When the Spy’s gaze came back to Sniper’s face, he blushed. The man was being pretty open about measuring him up.

“And _I’m_ crazy for not wearing a shirt?” the Spy motioned to Sniper.

He looked at himself, realizing for the first time that he was dressed down to his boxers. He was not ashamed of it though, he had been this indecent around Spy before. Of course, back then he was not aware that Spy was gay – or thought about him naked.

“Not like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me in my underoos,” Sniper stated, eyeing the Spy’s black tank top, “Still hard to get used to you not being in a blue suit though. That’s like seeing the sunset for the first time. Bizarre that it existed without you never knowing about it.”

“What a strange analysis of my choice of clothing,” Spy noted.

“Yet, you still wear a balaclava? To sleep?” Sniper motioned to Spy’s face.

He blushed, realizing what he was insinuating. Of course the Spy would be wary of his identity when he was out of his private domain. Although, it was curious to think that maybe he also slept in the balaclava, for safety’s sake.

“I have not slept,” Spy stated.

Sniper gave him a curious look, “You ha-” He cut himself off and waved his hands in the air defensively. “I don’t want to know!”

Spy rolled his eyes, “I’ve been up preparing a strategy for figuring out who is after you.”

“Yea?” Sniper asked, his cheeks still feeling hot.

He felt rather hot, standing in nothing but boxers in the cold forest air. Even inside the house, it was fairly cold and it tickled his skin, prickling up the hairs until they became goose bumps. He wanted to shiver because of the temperature of the air, but he was too hot to shiver.

“I need to know who all you’ve worked with,” Spy held up an index finger, “And I need to know where you have been.” He raised a second finger.

“Confidentiality, mate,” Sniper argued, “I can get in trouble with the higher ups. They don’t take kindly when they find out somebody’s been yammerin’ about that kind of stuff.”

“I doubt they’ll know,” Spy folded his arms with an irritated look about him.

“Just like you doubt somebody’ll find you out if you take the balaclava off?” Sniper asked, with a bit of challenge in his tone.

Spy glared, “You’re the one who was concerned about me making a rash decision on taking it off.”

Sniper raised his hands defensively, “Sorry mate. I’m just tired.”

Spy nodded, “Well, we still need to figure out who is after you. And given they might be a hiree or somebody after your employers, we need to discuss who you have been working with.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew woke to the sound of voices. They were coming from downstairs. He thought groggily about hearing the voices before, but they had been softer before, so they had not disturbed him from his slumber. Now he was awake, and curious to know what was going on that had pulled Spy from the bed. He did not come up to this cabin with him so he could sleep in a bigger colder bed.

He crept carefully from the room, tip toeing on socks. He was most careful when he snuck past the guest bedroom, not wanting to disturb the sleeping woman. She probably needed sleep most of all.

When he came down the stairs, the two voices became clearer. Spy was growing more irritated, while the Sniper was growing more frustrated. Their voices were rising slowly higher and higher, until suddenly the Spy hissed. The two went silent.

One of them rose from a kitchen chair, the legs scuffing against the tile flooring. “Soldier?” the Spy inquired, with a softer voice.

Andrew continued a bit more quickly from the base of the stairs to the kitchen. There he found Spy standing in front of his chair, while Sniper slumped back in his. Spy was wearing a tank top and socks like he had taken to bed, but he had added slacks to his attire. Sniper on the other hand was wearing nothing but blue boxers, which only made his lanky form look more awkward slumped in the chair.

“You two are being loud,” he stated, looking between Sniper and Spy.

“Apologies,” Spy offered him a smile, “We did not mean to get so loud.”

“You’re probably going to wake Melisa,” Andrew noted.

“Speaking of whom,” Sniper rose awkwardly from his chair, causing it to skid across the floor, “I should head back upstairs before she starts fidgeting. She gets fussy when I’m gone long.”

Spy nodded to him, “We’ll talk later.”

Andrew watched Sniper head up the stairs then turned to Spy. With a tired sigh, the Frenchman returned to his seat and placed his face in his hands. Andrew walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. He was glad to see the Spy immediately raise his face to smile up at him.

“Thank you,” Spy stated, “And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Andrew asked, taken aback. That was when he realized that he was probably apologizing for the noise that woke him.

“For everything,” Spy sighed, “This was supposed to be a special vacation. It was supposed to be you and me time. But, now Glenn is here with Melisa. And we cannot do any of the things we wanted. This has quickly changed from the romantic getaway that was planned.”

Andrew squeezed his shoulder, “You planned this. So…if anybody deserves apologies, it’s you.” He paused, trying to reason out in his head just how the figures worked out. He was pretty sure he was not the one who owed an apology.

“Thank you, mon ami,” Spy took his hand and kissed it.

“We will get to spend time together later,” Andrew smiled at him, “But, let’s just go to bed for now. Okay?”

Spy nodded, slowly rising from his seat. Andrew took him with one arm, bumping hip to hip with him. He smiled up at Spy again, reassuring the man that everything was going just fine. He led the other man up the stairs to the master bedroom to curl up and cuddle again. Neither of them wanted to do certain things with Sniper and Melisa around the house, but they could at least hold each other.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Have you seen the Soldier anywhere?” Alhwin asked when he found Forbes.

The Demoman scratched his head, glancing at Donnovan warily. Why he was suddenly set off by this question was beyond the Medic. The two Demomen seemed to get along just fine though, so that was a good sign. Perhaps he was just not used to this Demoman yet.

“Henry’s about,” Forbes shrugged, “I think I saw him last headed to the gym.”

“No no,” Alhwin waved off the suggestion, “I don’t mean Henry. I mean the other Soldier. Er…” He glanced at the papers he was holding in his hands. He was not used to calling Soldier by any name, just his title. “The other one,” he explained, “Swanson, Andrew Swanson.”

“Swanson?” Donnovan raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t know that Soldier even had a name. He lives up to his title so much.” He chuckled, tilting back a bottle of whiskey.

“He’s off on vacation,” Forbes answered the question.

“Vacation?!” Donnovan exclaimed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Alhwin was just as confused as Donnovan, “Soldier’s off on a vacation? What…what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, he’s on vacation,” Forbes’ eye moved around a bit nervously, “That’s all. He’s not on base, he’s off the clock for the next…week I think?”

“A week off?” Donnovan whistled low and long.

Alhwin huffed a sigh. This was a bit strange. He had never heard of a mercenary working for Mann Co getting any time off, aside from weekends. It just always seemed that they were tied to their work, slaves to the owners of Mann Co and chained to their bases, wherever they were assigned. That was just the way things were.

“Yea,” Forbes scratched his neck awkwardly, “Guess he put in paperwork and got some time off.”

“Seriously? That’s all it takes?” Donnovan scoffed with disbelief.

“Well, it’s not so simple,” Forbes replied, with a shrug, “It’s a lot of bureaucracy and shit. You have to send multiple packets of paperwork in. And then if they don’t approve, you have to start all over again.”

“We could have been putting in paperwork for time off all along?” Donnovan scoffed again.

“I didn’t know about this either,” Alhwin put in.

Forbes shook his head, “The recent contracts. The time off is in those contracts. You have to apply for it though. Can’t just up and leave whenever you want. You have to get approved times for vacation. It has to be a time that is convenient for Mann Co and such. The company makes our business their business, after all.”

“Does RED get the same though?” Donnovan asked, intrigued and mischievous at the same time.

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” Alhwin shrugged.

“Y-” Forbes started, but then quickly took it back, “I dunno about that. Maybe they do. I wouldn’t know.”

“How do you know about this if we don’t?” Alhwin asked, curiously.

“I’m overdue a vacate,” Forbes said, puffing his chest up a little, “I’ve been applying for my free time for near four months now. Hoping to get a couple weeks of rest. Maybe I’ll go fishing and spend the week camping. Or hop a plane back to homeland for a drop by old memories.”

“Memory lane,” Donnovan sighed, with a dreamy look on his face.

“Aye,” Forbes nodded, “But, it’d probably just be all different. So I’ll probably just settle for going fishing.”

“Well…” Alhwin hesitated, looking at the papers in his hand, “Good luck with that. Have fun, I suppose.”

“What did you want with the Soldier?” Forbes asked, trying to peer at the papers he was holding.

Alhwin raised the papers so that neither Demoman could read them, “Health check. He was supposed to check in with Dr. Frederick. But it seems he skipped out, and now I know why.”

“He didn’t tell ya?” Forbes looked concerned.

“No,” Alhwin shook his head.

“And he didn’t tell the other Medic neither?” Forbes went on.

“No he didn’t,” Alhwin shook his head, “Shouldn’t he have?”

“He should have,” Forbes nodded in agreement.

“What do you ya need to see him about anyways?” Donnovan asked him curiously.

“I just told you, he was supposed to see Dr. Frederick,” Alhwin answered.

“That doesn’t tell me what I asked though,” Donnovan stated.

“Hey!” a familiar Brooklyn voice caught their attention, “Hey guys! Come look! You have to see this!”

“What is it?” Donnovan asked, barely moving from his seat. He was too comfortable where he was to be moving just because of Scout.

“It’s a television!” Price replied, excitedly, “Come on! Engie’s got it up and running! You don’t wanna miss it!”

“A television, eh?” Alhwin pondered the possibilities curiously.

It had been a long time since they were really allowed to get out of the bases and mingle with people. Ever since he had been stationed down in Mexico, hardly anyone would talk with him or his teammates. Even up here in the states, the people at the local small town would not bother with them. In fact, they almost seemed to avoid them, like they knew something was up.

“It’s all in color too!” Price added excitedly, “You ever seen that, doc? You’re from like the twenties, right doc? They didn’t have color TV back then, right?”

“What is this I hear about a television?” Réne appeared in the room, as if summoned.

“Engie’s got a TV up and running at his workshop!” Price said excitedly. He was bouncing around now. “Come on! Let’s go!”

They reached the workshop to find the Engineers arguing with Réne. They were getting heated with it too. Alhwin glanced between the Demomen and the three arguing men, confused and unsure if either Demo could have picked up on what was going on. They were arguing about the television and whether or not they were allowed to use one within the boundaries of their contract. The argument got bigger when each Demoman became at odds with each other. Surprisingly, Donnovan wanted to defend the Engineers, but Forbes stood by Réne, somebody he seemed to dislike generally.

“What is this all about?” he finally forced himself between the two groups.

“Are you not listening?” Donnovan spoke up.

“Yes? I’ve listened to grown men argue for the past three minutes,” Alhwin said, rubbing his head to fight a headache, “What Is this really about though?”

“Our contracts specifically state that contact beyond the base like this is forbidden!” Réne exclaimed, with frustration heavy on his tongue.

“And I’m tellin’ ya that we don’t give two shits,” Hemlocke argued.

“We’ve been stuck with nothin’ for entertainment for too damn long!” McDrewery added in agreement.

The two Engineers seemed like they were in sync. Neither of them argued or took a different perspective. They just seemed to be eye to eye, as equals. He immediately felt quite envious of that.

As agreeable as his new partner-in-the-infirmary was, he could not help but feel like there was an unspoken expectation of respect. Alhwin respected the man’s unspoken wishes with his own silence. He did what he was told, whenever he was asked, even if it was not openly asked of him. He felt like an apprentice or an intern fighting for the doctor’s attention and his respect, though he was sure he would have to create a miracle or he would never that kind of mutual respect.

“I don’t see why the Administrator would care so much about us having a television,” Alhwin shrugged in dismissal.

“She watches everything!” Réne argued, with frustration, “Are you idiots that ready to risk your contracts for a silly thing like television?”

“Well, if it’s a fight you’re lookin’ for, son,” McDrewery started to roll up a sleeve, while Hemlocke took his arm, trying to calm him down.

“Is that not how you hooligans regularly entertain yourselves?” Réne scoffed.

“It wouldn’t be so, if we had something to distract ourselves with,” Alhwin offered, with a shrug.

“No,” Réne gave no other explanation, “We mustn’t have this in our vicinity.”

“What harm could it do?” Donnovan asked, with a scoff.

“You haven’t heard of the last man who tried to have a simple radio in his workshop?” Forbes asked.

Hemlocke raised an eyebrow at that, “You ‘n’ I have been working a long time together. I don’ reckon that was ever a thing.”

“Says you,” Forbes said simply, “But if’n you’re going to do it, don’t do it here. Don’t be on base. We don’t want to get tied up in the red tape that will come our way when the Administrator starts making reports on our arses!” Réne gave him a flabbergasted expression, though Alhwin could not consider why he was so against the television entertainment.

McDrewery scoffed, “That’s a whole lot of crock.”

“I’ll say,” Hemlocke nodded in agreement.

“How d’ya figure?” Forbes asked, with an entertained look on his face. He was enjoying this now, with every bit of pressure they were trying to put into their argument, while Réne struggled to keep his face straight.

“You cannot have a television work outside,” Hemlocke explained, “It’s got to have a power supply.”

“We could use a generator,” McDrewery offered with a shrug, “Wouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yea, but we set up its connection from the base,” Hemlocke shook his head, “If we try to connect it anywhere else, we’ll have to set the whole thing up all over again. And that’ll just have more problems, considering we probably would not be in a building. Nor would we be in the vicinity of a place that would be protected from a Spy. No offense, Spy.”

“None taken,” Réne was taking this into stride now, raising a dismissive hand.

“Well it’s either that or throw it out!” Forbes said with stern determination, “Cause I ain’t havin’ it here while it’s opposed to the stipulations of my contract!”

“Me too,” Réne added.

“Well…” Alhwin sighed as he caved. He could see the benefits of having a television, but none of them outweighed the cons. There were so many ways this could go wrong, and none of them were worth a bit of outside-world-entertainment. “Given a Spy sees the necessity of this, I cannot help but concede.”

“What?” Hemlocke exclaimed, “Seriously? Just like that? You’re going to follow a damn Spy? Where’s your own judgment?”

“He’s a follower type, Cal,” McDrewery leaned towards the other Engineer’s ear, “Don’t take much to persuade him to do anything. But once he’s there, he’s all in.”

“Thanks for that assessment,” Alhwin gave him a disapproving frown.

“You don’t take my advice,” McDrewery shrugged, “Even though we been workin’ together a long time.”

“In this case we are dealing with the Administrator, is that correct?” he looked to Réne for clarification. He got a nod and turned his attention back to the Engineers. “Administrator’s favorite class is the Spy. Spies know everything about her. And Spies know what she wants and what she likes. They even get how she thinks about us mercenaries. Don’t you think we should be taking his advice in this situation, instead of jumping in like idiots?”

The Engineers rolled their eyes and watched as their support dwindled. Donnovan quickly saw what the Medic was talking about and started to nod slowly. Price was silent, and now showed reluctance at even participating in the discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i have pulled from my writer notes to give you a character list.  
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-7FobLE_hr5NMech6lV9rfcZ00qwflmng4jh5QXNY4k  
> Enjoy.


	3. The War That Follows You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew starts hallucinating and forgets where he is.

The day was spent in relative silence. Much of it was spent just lazily about the cabin. It was nice to be out in the fresh green forest air, away from mercenaries, gun powder, and noise. It was a refreshing way to reset everything in Andrew’s mind.

There was a tickle though. He had hoped to enjoy today like no other, but today he kept hearing something. It started off after breakfast as a whisper. Eventually, he started to think of a song. He started to hum the song. The others would smile at him in passing, not knowing why he was humming. Maybe they thought he was remembering old songs from his youth.

He did not remember where he heard the song, until lunch was being prepared. He sat outside, out on a log that lifted upwards in the middle. It was quite a few paces from the porch, giving him some space from Melisa, who sat on the porch. Beyond her, within the cabin, he could hear the Spy and the Sniper arguing about what way to make lunch.

It did not bother Andrew what they made or how they made it. What bothered him was the troop that came marching up the road. He sat there on the log, feeling dissonant and suddenly very surreal. He took to his feet, rising to look better prepared as what looked like a tired US battalion went marching right by. They had no sure direction, they just seemed to march onward. Tired faces, some worn and even bloody, looked on towards their destination with hope that this would be their last mile. Each man carried a rifle, guns at the ready in case the enemy came down on them, but with packs too heavy for a regular man to handle for such a long trek.

At the head of the march was their leader. The man gave commands, mostly by silent movements, motioning to his men the way only a man who trained with them would. They knew his words by the very flinch of his hand. And when they came to a halt near Andrew, the commander alone turned to him.

“At attention!” the man’s voice pounded at Andrew’s ears, and brought him to full attention, flinching until his back was straight.

He stared back at the commanding officer, who sent his men on ahead of himself. The man’s gaze was never flinching, completely unmoving. There was something unsettling about the way he stood within the silence of what should be a bird song filled afternoon. A cold chill came over Andrew and the distant pop popping of rifles filled his head.

The commander dropped. Andrew’s eyes turned and the entire battalion became a bloody pile of corpses. Men scampered over their fallen brethren to escape, but none of them saw the sniper’s shots coming. They fell upon each other, each unable to escape as they were downed by the enemy. The distant shouting of a German soldier caught his ear.

“Soldier?” that German voice turned French very quickly and Andrew’s head whipped around.

He felt the blood leave his face, seeing the Spy standing there. Beyond him was a gray dusk that held no hope for survival. Yet here was the Spy, looking like he was completely unaware of his surroundings. His bright blue mask would no doubt bring attention from an enemy sniper. He may have been French, but he was Andrew’s ally, his friend, and somebody he had to look out for.

Before he knew what was happening, he had his hands on the Spy, pulling him to the ground. His voice was shouting for him, without his proper thought. Spy was struggling under him, shouting exclamations that bordered French and English. Andrew’s mind was simply spinning with worry about where that damn sniper was.

Spy grabbed the front of his attire, but he was already crawling towards cover. He reached over to grab Spy, pulling him along the ground. Spy kicked and cursed as he was dragged across the ground to the cover. This was no time to fret about his attire, though Spy did look pretty good in that French soldier attire. He looked damn good, and he would let that image burn into his mind before he ever lost his man.

“Soldier!” the Spy shouted, trying to grab Andrew.

Andrew rolled to the side, looking over the edge of their cover. No sight of the sniper though, not yet. The elusive sharp shooter was probably waiting patiently for one of them to pop their heads up long enough for a decent shot. Andrew would not give him the time of day though, and kept his head too low for a good shot.

Suddenly, two hands grabbed the front of his clothes and shook him, slamming his back into the cover. He gave a loud “oof” as he grunted. He looked up at Spy, who glared back into his eyes.

“Mon amour! Tell me, where are you right now?” Spy demanded.

“I’m right here!” Andrew barked, grabbing Spy’s wrists, “Get down!”

“Where are you? Where is your mind?” Spy pleaded, a little more softly. The glare in his eyes slowly faded.

“I’m right here, I’m trying to take cover!” Andrew barked, “Can’t you see, we’re near a sniper blind!”

“What sniper blind? There _is no_ sniper blind!” Spy barked, “Come back to me, Andrew.”

He blinked up at Spy, watching as the man’s eyes changed. He went from stern to pleading to loving in a matter of moments. The fondness tugged at Andrew’s heartstrings as he gazed back at him.

“Belgium…” he finally answered, “It’s…it’s Belgium.”

“You’re not in Belgium,” Spy told him sternly.

“I’m not?” Andrew looked around, searching his mind. Maybe this was France and that’s why Spy was here.

“You’re not in Europe,” Spy shook him by the front of his shirt, “Andrew, look at me!” He forced his head up to look Spy in the eye. “You’re in America. Repeat it.”

“I’m in America?” Andrew blinked up at him, his eyes seeing more clearly that Spy was dressed in a cream button up, with his blue balaclava tucked underneath the collar. “I’m in America?”

“Yes,” Spy said, with a breath of relief, “There’s no sniper. This is not Belgium.”

“But I…” Andrew blinked up at Spy before he looked around again.

The songs of many birds filled the bright and colorful trees. The midday sunlight took his eyes by storm, forcing out the gloomy aura that was in his mind before. How he managed to block out such a beautiful day was beyond him. He ended up slumping back against the log he had been using for cover from the mysterious and make believe sniper.

“You’re safe,” Spy assured him, his tone and overall volume softening, “I promise.”

Spy’s hands moved up from the collar of his shirt to his head. He cupped his head, trying to bring Andrew’s focus back to his face. Andrew could not help it though. He wanted to look around with disbelief that he was sitting in the middle of a forest near a cabin. Was he not in the middle of battle just a moment ago?

“Remember where you are?” Spy slowly got down on one knee beside him, but stayed very close.

“I…” Andrew raised a hand to touch the hand on his right cheek. Spy let his head turn as he looked around at the trees and the camper nearby. “I’m in the mountains,” he noted, “Up at the cabin. With you…and…” He took a breath and shook his head.

“You’re here,” Spy reassured him, “With me.”

“Okay,” Andrew nodded.

“Okay?” Spy questioned, unsure of the truth.

Andrew turned to look up at him quizzically, “I’m okay now.”

“Are you?” Spy asked.

Andrew glanced out of the corner of his eye, at the remnants of a soldier laid upon the ground. The grayish tones and the camouflage of his attire clashed with the bright and colorful world he was sitting in. It felt so out of place that he could see that it was not real.

“You don’t leave war, son,” he heard a familiar old voice say.

“Tell me you’re going to be okay,” Spy demanded, his fingers rubbing against Andrew’s cheek.

He sighed and nodded. He did not feel okay though. Something still did not feel right. He was not entirely shaken out of that state of horror at the bloody visions of a hell he thought he had left behind in Europe.

“War follows you wherever you go,” that familiar voice kept ringing in his head.

“I’m going to be okay,” Andrew assured him.

“And no matter where you go, no matter what you do, it’ll still be there to guide you,” the voice went on. Andrew tried to shake it off, but without any luck. “Just remember to keep a good knife and a reliable gun on you. Never leave without those things. Maybe pack some pots and pans if you’re travelling. Those are mighty good things to have. But never leave without a knife and a reliable gun.”

“Knife and a reliable gun,” the words echoed softly off of Andrew’s tongue in an inaudible mumble.

“What was that?” Spy asked.

Andrew glanced over his shoulder to see the Sniper and Melisa standing on the porch together. They were staring at Andrew and the Spy. How long had they been there? Did they know what was going on? He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment at the realization that there was an audience for what he had just done.

Spy glanced over his shoulder, shooting the two a warning glance. That was apparently all the Sniper needed to dismiss himself and head inside the cabin. Melisa was a bit slower, but eventually followed her boyfriend inside.

Spy quickly turned his attention back to the Soldier, “Are you going to be okay?”

“I told you, Spy,” he growled, forcing himself to sit up straight. Spy pushed against his chest, trying to force him back against the log. “I’m going to be just fine!”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Spy told him, “Stay where I can see you for now.”

“I’m not a child, I’ll take care of myself!” Andrew growled, frustrated at being babied.

How could he expect any different though? This was the way Spy had been with him ever since he found out how truly bad Andrew’s visions had gotten. Granted, these things usually happened on the battlefield, so nobody could help him anyways, and they ended up working out since he was usually caught up in battle within the vision. Most times it was just that old voice though, some familiar old teammate who had died back in Europe, never to return from the Second Great War.

Spy never seemed quite sure what to do though. He had no cures at his aid. He just had momentary solutions. He would say things like “stay near me” and “stay in my sight” and “don’t leave this room” so that he could make sure Andrew would be safe. It was not like something bad was going to happen to Andrew, he would just look weird in front of people who did not understand that he was acting out a sequence of actions because he was seeing things that were not there.

“Tell me if you start hearing things again,” Spy commanded, before rising to his feet. He stopped to take Andrew’s hand and pull him up.

“They’ve already started,” Andrew retorted.

“When you want good cooking? A knife and a reliable gun are perfect for that!” the voice was still talking.

“Let me know if it gets any worse,” Spy gestured for him to go ahead of him towards the cabin, “Or anything more happens.”

“Just shoot yourself a rabbit and you can skin it with your knife,” the voice went on and on, talking about the good uses of a reliable gun and a knife. Andrew never doubted these good uses, but he sure did get tired of hearing them over and over.

“Yea yea,” Andrew growled, toddling with a feeling of shame towards the cabin.

How embarrassing to know that Melisa was there watching. How humiliating to know that Sniper was there too, likely having seen enough to think him weird. Of course, the Sniper might already think he was weird, what with all of his normal shouting. But usually when he got caught up in a flash back or vision in which he started to act out things, he was in battle, so rarely anybody saw it.

What was worse, he had dragged Spy into it too. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other man trying to fix the cream shirt, brushing away dust and trying to straighten it out. He had dragged him across the ground like some rookie on the battlefield, thinking that he was in harm’s way. He had jumped him likewise, trying to save his life from the make believe sniper. What a foolish thing to do, and now he was walking shamefully to the cabin to try and pretend like it never even happened. He would probably forget about it later, but Spy would not.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Of course Sniper would think of eating something Italian like spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. But, that had been the tradeoff for Spy's choice of lunch. Glenn really did need to try different kinds of foods, not just Italian dishes. He seemed to like Italian too much.

There was something tense and awkward since lunch though. During the preparation, that little event that occurred with the Soldier shook Melisa. It surprised Glenn, but Melisa seemed to just freak out about it.

At first she came in squawking about something going on. She actually started to think there was a sniper that Andrew had spotted. Glenn had grabbed his gun, ready to shoot at will, only to find himself staring confusedly at the hallucinating Soldier.

It broke his heart to see the man like that. He loved Andrew, and he wanted him to feel safe, so seeing him return to a place he did not want to be was painful. Worst part of it were the expressions. He never made these expressions in any other situation, whether he was fighting or even in pain, he never made such painful expressions. He would smile in the midst of fighting, even if he was losing. He would grit his teeth at pain when it was too much to bear, and when it got even worse, he would put something like a belt in his mouth to protect his mouth.

Andrew’s face had been full of dread when Spy caught his attention. The moment he jumped Spy was the most terrifying one. The man’s dread filled Spy with his own dread, so he could barely react when he was pulled to the ground. Dragged across the ground like a wounded man, his clothes had actually been the last thing on his mind, it was more of simple panic that filled him as Andrew reacted to some perceived danger.

He could never be sure anymore. He thought he could handle Andrew’s outbursts, but this was a little insane. Perhaps it was just because Melisa and Glenn were there that he was feeling like this, but he felt very overwhelmed by the severity of this outburst. There was only the hope that more outbursts like this would not happen in the near future.

What Spy feared most of all was not that somebody would see him. He did not fear humiliation or embarrassment. He did not fear Andrew attacking him or anything like that. He would take a beating if he was suddenly perceived as the enemy, so be it. He could handle it. But he really feared that he might lose Andrew’s mind forever, lost in and endless sequence of visions that were taking him away.

Suddenly, Glenn broke the silence, “Nice weather out here.”

What an awkward thing to say to try and break such an awkward silence. Spy would have at least tried to think of something a little cleverer than the weather to talk about. That was just pointing out the tenseness of the room, without actually stating it.

“It’s very nice,” Melisa nodded with agreement.

Spy gave her a curious quirk of the eyebrow. Was she feeding this weird break of tension? That seemed odd for her. She seemed like the smart one. Perhaps she was just feeling too awkward with all of the tension in the room, after all they had been through in the past two days.

“I was thinking it would be good weather for camping,” Sniper suggested, “We’ve kinda barged in here. And I think it would be a good idea to move outta their space. Ya know?”

Spy turned his curious look to Sniper. The two were having this weird conversation together that was directed to each other, but somehow included Spy and Soldier. He glanced at Andrew curiously, but the man was busy picking at a meatball. He did not seem that interested in actually eating it, which was troublesome for a man who loved meats.

Melisa nodded, “I think that would be a good idea. We can handle a bit of camping. Besides, keeping moving would keep us off the radar, don’t you think?”

“Best idea I’ve got,” Glenn shrugged.

Spy shook himself, turning to his friend, “You’re not serious, are you?”

Glenn turned to face him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He motioned to Melisa, “You’re going to take a pregnant woman camping? Camping? Are you mad?”

“Not really, no,” Glenn shook his head, “I’ve got my head pretty square on my shoulders.”

Melisa nodded, “I’ve…already discussed it with Glenn. We think we should head out. It’d be better for us to keep out of visibility.”

“So you’re just going to leave us behind as witnesses,” Spy stated, “You realize that they will follow your tracks, eventually find us to try and find you. Yes?”

“Did you want to come with us?” Glenn offered.

Spy glared at him, “No, I don’t.”

“Then, what are you complaining about?” Glenn shrugged, turning his attention back to Melisa, “Besides, baby’s not due for another two months. We can be over to someplace like Seattle by then. By then, we’ll have someplace settled where she can be safe with the baby.”

“And you intend to do that how?” Spy pressed, “Because by then you’ll have to deal with the people hunting you, _and_ angry employers. It may now be Mann Co Produ-”

He cut himself off, Andrew in the corner of his eye. He did not seem to be paying attention, still playing with that meatball, but he could no doubt hear them just fine. He cleared his throat and calmed his tone before he continued.

“That is to say, our employers are just as ruthless with us as they ever were,” Spy explained, “And given the status of your relationship or not, they’re going to come for you. They may not be as pleasant and kind about it as they were when Pauling first found you.”

Glenn frowned back at him, “I don’t need to be babied. I’ll figure it out. Besides, I have vacation time coming. All I have to do is submit the proper paperwork and I’ve got several years to do what I want with.”

“Just…” Spy sighed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Andrew being depressed. He needed to deal with his love feeling down, and he needed to deal with his friend making rash decisions. He could not do both of these things at the same time. He would have to focus his energy on one or the other.

“Just be careful,” Spy finally said.

Glenn gave him assuring nod, before turning back to his food. Melisa did the same. Spy lost his appetite and excused himself to start cleaning up dishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor babby soldier.  
> Spy is such a dear.


	4. This Chapter is Surreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper and Melisa have a run in with Saxton Hale.  
> Spy finally gets the personal time with Andrew that he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named this chapter for how i felt writing this story and how Sniper and Andrew feel. Read on and you may understand.

Sniper and Melisa left rather early the next morning. The cabin was very quiet. Andrew came stumbling down the steps shortly after he had started cooking breakfast. He had decided to make some baked goods this morning, something that felt a little more like his childhood home for Spy.

“Smells delicious,” Andrew smiled at him, before running his arms around Spy’s middle.

Spy smiled, “You’re feeling better, I presume?”

Andrew gave him a look, before realization hit him, “No more voices.”

Spy nodded, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Andrew sighed and laid his chin against Spy’s shoulder. Spy did his best to pretend that he was unencumbered. Andrew liked to hug him, he liked to be in close contact, and Spy kind of liked it. He liked it a whole lot more than he thought he would. He could get used to daily hugs and kisses like this.

“I was wondering,” Andrew interrupted him, as he placed the pastry dough into the oven. He had to release Spy to allow him to bend over, which Spy took advantage of to turn around before Andrew came into close contact again. “About something.”

“Hmm?” Spy gave him a curious raise of the eyebrow.

“About…the other day,” Andrew brought himself chest to chest with Spy.

Spy took a deep breath, “What about it?”

“I was wondering if we could start up where we left off?” the man got a quirky smile that spread from ear to ear when he spoke those last two syllables.

Spy smirked, “I’d love to. But, we have to keep an eye on the oven. Don’t want breakfast to burn, now do we?”

“No,” Andrew looked a bit disappointed.

Spy sighed, “A quick one then?”

Andrew’s face lit up. He did not need any more prompting than that. He went straight to dragging Spy to the couch, where they struggled in a race to get their clothing off.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The road was long and dark. The tires bumped along the poorly kept surface, until they broke away to civilized grounds, where the roads were better kept. From there, it was smooth driving, all the way to Colorado Springs. They decided they would stay at a motel for the night, seeing as they would do an awful lot of sleeping in the camper soon, and that might not suit Melisa.

“I don’t mean to be a bother,” Melisa suddenly said, as Glenn unlocked the door.

He shook his head, “But of course not.” He opened the door and let her step inside first, before he followed her. He was careful to lock it behind himself. “You’re pregnant, certain comforts are necessary.” He paused to take her by the waist, pulling her in for a surprise peck on the nose, “Especially for my angel and my baby.”

Melisa beamed up at him, completely joyous at his loving behavior. Between Spy chastising him for years about how to be romantic and learning how Melisa’s mind worked, Sniper had learned just a few things. It seemed like it might just be enough for him to make her special from time to time. Given how much weight she was carrying, he was sure she needed it more than ever.

She yawned, that adorable little yawn that reminded him of a kitten, “I’m going to call it a night early.”

“Alright love,” he noted that there were two separate beds in this room with a frown. He had been hoping for one large bed, just so he could hold her during the night. Of course, maybe she would let him squeeze in like they did at Spy’s cabin.

 

When morning came, they were greeted by a banging to the door. Sniper leaped from the bed and charged to the window. He ducked to the side, carefully easing around to the corner of the window to peek outside. There were two men in beige trench coats and black fedoras outside, who looked like they meant business. This did not seem the same as somebody who would hire a sniper to do the job, but it could have been the same.

He rushed to the bed to wake Melisa. She was too groggy to understand his panic as he rushed her to the bathroom. There was no way out but through the door, so he would have to make a stand in the living room while she took cover from any stray bullets. He grabbed his gun and overturned one of the beds for cover.

There he waited, a shotgun aimed at the door. A rifle would not do in such close quarters with two attackers coming. A shotgun would spray them both and likely get the job done the first time.

“Mister Smuther?” one of the men called from outside.

He did not reply, choosing instead to wait in silence. They would likely find a way in. They would probably break down the door to get to him. When that happened, he would be ready for them, with a shotgun shell for their faces.

“Glenn? What’s going on?” Melisa asked from the bathroom door.

“Keep the door closed, hon,” he turned slightly to look at the crack in the door. She could barely peek out from her angle. “Stay in there!”

“Glenn, let me help you!” she pleaded.

“I don’t want you hurt!” he growled, before turning his attention towards the door.

He barely turned his head in time to see a large man breaking down the door with his boot. He had a big smirk on his face and a hat pulled down low. His chest was a hairy mess shaved into the shape of Australia. It was more than Glenn could come up with words for.

“Alright, here’s how this goes,” the larger Australian’s voice was thunderous in the small motel room. His body was so big that the other two men could barely peek around him.

“Holy dooley,” was all that Glenn could mutter as he gaped up at what seemed to be Saxton Hale. What was this man doing here anyways?

“You are an official mercenary under hire for Mann Co, is that correct? Or have I got the wrong Australian?” Saxton Hale looked him up and down questioningly.

Glenn glared back at him, feeling a bit slighted. It was not uncommon for him to get scaled up like this, for not being a large man. Even Saxton Hale, a self-proclaimed Australian, stood by the stereotype that Australians were big strong people with hair on their chest that was shaved into the shape of Australia. Glenn would not be so weirdly vain as to shave his chest hair into the shape of his home country.

“You better state your business mate,” Glenn brought the shotgun to bare, “Or you’re about to get a mouthful of buckshot.”

“Right, right,” Hale brought his hands up in a defensive manner, “No need to get your nickers in a twist, missy! I’m just here on regular business. Seeing as you’ve run off beyond the boundaries of your current agreement with Mann Co, I have to bring you back to base.”

Glenn hesitated. Part of him was relieved, because Hale was not here to cause any harm. He was just here for business on behalf of Mann Co. Why he was sent here instead of somebody like Pauling was beyond him though. That was the weirdest thought of all.

“Tell me,” the bigger Australian rubbed the stubble on his chin, “You ever tangled with an eight-hundred-pound lion before?”

Glenn furrowed his brow, “I don’t reckon I have, no.”

“Then this’ll be easier than taking candy from a baby sasquatch!” Hale’s warning barely hit his ears in time before the giant’s hands were around his neck and shoulders. Glenn fought, but the two lackeys had already grabbed a hold of his gun and were wrenching it from his hands.

The bathroom door banged open behind him and he could barely wrench his head around. Melisa had gotten a hold of the other shotgun and was holding it up to aim at Saxton Hale’s head. Her eyes had a hunter’s look in them, with the anger of a woman scorned and the focus of a predator.

“You go on like that and this gun’s going off on you!” she barked.

“Ah, you got a little girl in here with you?” Hale gave Glenn a perplexed look.

Glenn could not really say anything in response to this. Everything was starting to feel surreal. Saxton Hale had barged into his room. Melisa was about to kill somebody. And he had yet to die.

“We’re not on respawn, Hale,” one of the lackeys said, backing away nervously.

The one who had Glenn’s gun in hand joined him, “We’re not here to cause harm, miss. We’re just here for Smuther.”

“Yes well, take your filthy hands off of _my Sniper_!” she demanded, making a bit of emphasis that her gun was focused on Hale’s head.

The man complied, releasing Glenn’s neck and shoulders. He took a stumble step back towards Melisa, rubbing his neck with disbelief. He had been so close to death, and he was nowhere near respawn to save him. This just kept getting more and more surreal by the moment.

“Right then,” Hale put his hands down, “Let’s have a friendly chat about it. What do you say?”

“Put those weapons down,” Melisa directed her shotgun at the lackeys.

They looked to Hale, who gave them a nod. One reluctantly put down the shotgun, before they both started unloading their jackets of weapons. Both of them had monitors strapped to their chests though, like the ones the Administrator used to use when she had a message for the team that could not be said over the loud speakers. He wondered what they had been intended for this time.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Spy felt like he was high during breakfast. He felt so good that he could not stop moaning. The crispy edges of the pastries had been cooked to perfection. Andrew seemed to enjoy them, but not like Spy was enjoying them.

He was still coming down from it too. It was that high that one gets when they’ve just had a good round with somebody they are very attracted to. That feeling added to the sweet breakfast treat and made him feel like he was in heaven.

He came down just a little to notice that Andrew had gotten a bit of crumbs on his cheek, just by his lip. Spy licked his thumb, about to brush it away from Andrew’s face when he realized what he was doing. He was not Andrew’s mom, what was he doing?

Andrew gave him a look that asked him what he was doing. He could only respond with his own look that he had no idea what he was doing. They stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what was going on.

Spy changed his mind, taking the Soldier by the back of his blond hair. He leaned over and brought his tongue to Andrew’s face, licking off the crumbs. It was adorable to see that this had left Andrew’s face quite red. He reached over to bring Spy into his lap, feeling the need to pull him close.

“How do you ever stay clean?” Spy chuckled.

“How do you stay so clean,” Andrew touched Spy’s lips with two tentative fingers, “You never get stains on your mask.”

“Practice,” Spy snickered.

A thought struck him as he looked down at Andrew from his perch on his knees. Andrew had never seen his face. Andrew only ever saw him with the balaclava on. There was no point in hiding his face anymore, and who better to finally reveal himself to, after near a century of hiding his identity.

He reached down to take off the first button of his shirt so he could pull up on the balaclava. Andrew’s eyes lit up as he watched Spy’s fingers roll the balaclava up his throat. He had just passed his Adam’s apple when Andrew’s mouth came about his neck.

“Andrew, wait a minute!” he had no more time to protest before he was pulled in.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Surreal. It was all so surreal. Glenn looked from Saxton Hale, to Melisa and back. He was standing by with Hale’s lackeys, looking rather awkward and out of place. It was as if this had nothing to do with him.

All the while, Melisa was chatting away with Hale in an extensive set of negotiations. Hale never seemed like much of a talker type, and in fact, he gave into some of her harsh conditions rather easily. He was never quick about it though, he always gave it a second thought before giving her the “okay.” Before Glenn even knew what was going on, Melisa and Hale’s hands were shaking.

“What just happened?” Glenn asked, feeling like Demo after finishing a bottle of scrumpy.

“Hale has agreed to let us be, as long as we stay near your base,” Melisa beamed at Glenn.

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Sniper stated, furrowing his brow and dragging his mouth into a frown.

“On the contrary,” Hale beamed, “This could be great for the show! You know, eighteen mercenaries coming together to protect a pregnant woman? That’s something! The drama would be perfect for the show!”

“I thought the show was about mercenaries fighting,” Glenn retorted, “Not about drama, and whatever else you’re going on about.”

“Times have changed!” Hale declared, “And since I’m taking over this program from Hector, I’m going to be making some decisions about this show.”

“Wait a minute,” Glenn raised his hands, wanting Hale to slow down and back up a bit, “You’re Saxton Hale though. What are you doing handling a show?”

“I’m producing it!” Hale beamed proudly, “Seeing as my weapons business is booming, why not give producing a shot? And you guys are not only my best buyers but my best advertisement!”

“They’re advertising your weapons?” Melisa gave him a look.

Hale nodded, still smiling broadly, “Of course! Where do you think they get those guns from? And once they name them, I smack that name on the gun and place it on the sale floor for the highest bidder! Brings in a whole lot of business overseas. You would not believe how many country’s military officials actually base their weapons shopping on the name and advertisement of a gun!”

“Sounds questionable,” Glenn noted.

“I don’t tell them how to buy,” Hale shrugged, “I just sell the guns! And if you all keep bringing the viewing numbers up, then we’ll get more advertisement out of this show!”

“You’re using us?” Glenn quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Always have! Look, you need this show to go on, just as much as I do,” Hale started speaking in a let-me-level-with-you kind of tone, “If we work together on this, we both benefit. Besides, in this account, you’ll be protecting your wife! Isn’t that exciting?! She’ll have full permissions to enter the base!”

“What about respawn?” Glenn asked with concern. He could feel his heart leaping in his chest, as the thought of that solution came to mind.

“Sorry, respawn doesn’t work that way,” Hale shrugged, “We can’t put women who are pregnant, plan to be pregnant or are nursing on respawn.”

“It’s not because I’m a woman though, right?” Melisa got that defensive tone that spoke of an upcoming temper tantrum.

“Of course not,” Hale waved off the suggestion, “There are plenty of women on respawns in other bases. But when they’re pregnant? Well…we have ways of dealing with that. But, for now, just worry about keeping her out of the line of fire.”

Glenn nodded. He barely followed that conversation. He barely understood what it all meant. Why could they not put Melisa on respawn to protect her? Why was Hale here? Why was he producing the show? Why was Melisa so calm about all of this?

 

*********************************************************************

 

What a mess they had made. And they had ended up on the kitchen floor no less. Spy looked over and was a bit relieved to see that Andrew was a bigger mess than he was. He had intended to take off his balaclava, but Andrew had taken to the show of neck as an opportunity to simply play with Spy.

How had the man know he would be so easy to manipulate? He bit his lip at the thought. He had not calculated that his neck would be so sensitive from years of wearing a balaclava. He was used to feeling hands around his throat, but never skin or tongue. That had been a pleasant reminder of what it was like to just be with somebody.

He was going to have to go about this differently. He got up off the floor and gathered up his pants to pull them on. He grabbed his other clothes to throw into the washer. He headed for the stairs just as Andrew was pulling his pants on.

“Where are you going?” Andrew called after him.

“Meet me in the bedroom in five minutes,” Spy stated, as he climbed the steps.

He went straight to the master bathroom and pulled off his mask. His familiar face and messy hair greeted him as it always did in front of a mirror. Looking at himself though, he became more unsure as to whether he should do this.

What if Andrew had second thoughts about him? What if he did not like the way he looked? What if the tan lines around his mouth and eyes bothered him? What if it was just too weird for him to see him out of his mask?

These questions buzzed through his mind while he rinsed his face and combed his hair. He could not go back now, he would regret it later. And he would not be seen by the first person in years with his hair bedraggled and his face unwashed.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew finally counted out the fifth minute in his head with relief. He had waited just as long as Spy wanted. Maybe he meant the five minutes figuratively, but Andrew could never be too sure.

When he was sure it was enough time, he headed up the stairs. He kept one hand on the railing, since he was not really paying attention to his feet. The moment the master bedroom door came into view, it became the only thing he could see.

He passed all of the other doors without a second glance for them. He focused on that door until he was swinging it open. The room was dimly lit, with the shades drawn and the curtains pulled in. It was as if somebody wanted it to be night time. Or perhaps they were trying really hard to hide themselves from the outside world.

He looked at the bedspread, which he had left neatly made this morning. It was empty of Spy, which disappointed him a bit. He had gotten some ideas of Spy just making Andrew come to him for certain reasons.

Sounds caught his attention from the bathroom. He turned, biting his lip anxiously. Spy was probably shaving or something. He probably wanted Andrew to wait so he could clean up in private. So, he decided it would be best turn to his back to the door, in case he did not hear the Soldier enter.

He cleared his throat loudly, “I’m here!”

The bathroom door opened and he heard soft feet stepping out, “What are you doing? Why are you turned away?”

“I didn’t want to impose on y-” Andrew spoke as he turned and he was cut off upon seeing Spy. He was not wearing his balaclava.

Areas of his face that would be covered now expressed quite a bit of emotion. Andrew could see the twitching of muscles which he could not see before. What would have looked like a calm and placid expression revealed a bit of awkward nervousness.

Spy tried to play off his nerves with a smile. Without the mask, Andrew could see just how nervous he really was. He had gone through a lot of mental – and possibly emotional – effort to do this.

“What do you think?” Spy’s voice played it cool, never revealing the nervous tension.

Andrew stepped towards him hesitantly. For near half a century, he knew the man with his balaclava on. How he could tell him apart from the other Spy he did not even know. They looked very similar in their masks, that was for sure. Their accents were very similar too, but of course the RED Spy’s accent was similar, being as they were French. But, he had always known that there was something different about him, even never seeing underneath the mask, he could tell who it was. _Now_ he could see who it was.

“I hope this was not bad timing, but I wanted to…” Spy’s voice drifted off for a moment. Worry came across his eyes as Andrew came closer. “You did not give me a chance to take it off downstairs, so I am sorry to spring this surprise on you.”

Andrew reached hesitantly up to touch his face. His fingers brushed against the trimmed back sideburns, which were gray. Gray wings stripped the sides of Spy’s head, and one strip from the front over the top of his black hair.

His eyes moved over the familiar hazels to a dented nose. It was scarred, dented from some old injury, likely a broken nose. It was not pretty, but definitely explained the odd shape of Spy’s nose.

Andrew’s eyes came back up to Spy’s eyes. They were ringed with tanned skin, which was jarring against skin so pale. His face looked like it had not seen the light of day outside of his mask since the Second Great War. It was a sad state, especially for a face that looked so handsome.

Andrew had to say something. He had to say something nice. It could not be corny. It had to be something original, something that would assure Spy that he was not pulling from a list of lines without thinking about it.

“Jacques, I can’t believe you trust me this much!” Andrew breathed. Wait, that came out wrong.

Spy waved off what he said, “Please. Call me Hugh.”

“Hugh?” that was a bit jarring for Andrew.

“My name is Hugh Fournier,” Spy explained.

Andrew’s jaw dropped with disbelief. This seemed very surreal to him. He was seeing Spy’s face for the first time and hearing his real name. He was being trusted with the man’s name of all things.

“You may call me by Jacques in front of the others, if you would rather,” Spy shrugged, a bit awkwardly, “But, it would please me…since we’re alone…if you called me Hugh.”

Disbelief hit him all over again. Andrew stared at him, feeling overwhelmed and astonished. He was not sure what to say or do.

Finally, he settled for murmuring, “Hugh.”

“Oui,” Spy smiled, lowering his face until they were forehead to forehead.

He pulled the Spy into a kiss. His heart was pounding so hard in his throat that he wondered if he could feel it through his tongue. Hugh was his name, and just as it felt good on his tongue, so did the Spy’s tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new revelation.  
> Told you there were more secrets. And that's not even the last secret.
> 
> *edit  
> sorry about chapter mix up. I am still postin with phone. One more week before i have real wifi.


	5. How the Spy met the Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale of how two enemies used to be friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not even know why. I just became inspired to write this. I think it could have gone anywhere, but here it is.  
> I hope you enjoy.

France, 1924

“You boys are going to be going in to recover intel!” a French soldier was barking in their faces. How disgustingly demeaning. “Nothing more and nothing less! The only reason we’re sending you in with weapons is that it would be irresponsible not to!”

He glanced at the other spies accepting their revolvers, while he tucked his away. The man directly next to him was humming softly as he checked the revolver over. He stowed it safely away before turning to him, offering a hand in greeting.

When he turned to him, it was like meeting a king. He was not sure whether to bow or shake his hand or something. He had this strange aura of regality about him. It was haughty yet somehow humbling as the man smiled at him, with the kindly gesture of an offered handshake.

“Do not engage with anybody!” the soldier was going on loudly, “And do not make a scene! The enemy is unidentified at this time. We have no idea what their next move will be or when.”

The man offering him a handshake rolled his eyes at the soldier, before taking his hand, “Ignore him. It’s just ritual for them to remind us that we’re not at war.”

He nodded, swallowing down his nerves. He accepted the hand, and decided to try his hand at feigning haughtiness. He was never a well-to-do man himself, but it was not difficult to fake back in training.

He put a small smile on when he spoke, “Pleasure. But it’s hardly worth noting.”

The man gave him a worried look, “But it is. We’re not at war, and this is not a mission for killing. We’re not out to start a war either.”

Dread hit him as the other spy stared at him for a long time. They stood like that for a while, before the other spy finally spoke again.

“You’re young, you’ll figure these things out,” the man assured him.

He nodded, feeling the blood leave his face. He was supposed to learn on the job how to be a better spy than the training facility could do. Training facilities could not create actual situations for them, they had to work with fake situations.

“Call me Hugh,” the man went on, “Stick with me and you’ll be fine. Like he said, it’s just an intel grab.”

He nodded in response, “Of course. Of course.”

“You’re white as a sheet,” Hugh noted, with a quirked eyebrow.

He cleared his throat, “N-not used to such a loud and bombastic man yelling in my face.”

Hugh laughed at that, “You’ll have to get used to that. No matter what, soldiers like to yell and shout. They’ll get loud and in your face. Best spy can fool them into thinking they are a soldier themselves. Because the well trained soldiers are unflinching in the face of a screamer. Don’t let them see that they get to you.”

“I will keep that in mind,” he nodded.

 

They moved off the next morning, taking a train to Belgium, then a bus into Northern Germany. There, he made sure he was paired up with Hugh. He could tell that the man was older than himself, and he seemed rather experienced in this kind of thing. He would probably be the best anchor for safety and handling the job.

They found themselves running a two-mile trek uphill when they got off of the bus though. It was like they were being trained as soldiers. Although, maybe that was the idea, since they had to get stealthily to the rendezvous before they were found out.

There, they had a brief time to talk about what was to come, “So, uh…you’ve done this kind of thing before?”

“Quite a bit, yes,” Hugh responded, nodding.

He took a deep breath, “And you’re…so you have experience, yea?”

“But of course,” Hugh chuckled, “If this is how you make small talk, they really should have found better techniques in that training school you graduated from.”

He felt heat rise to his face, “Training school? Oh, right. You mean the boarding school.”

“I don’t know their techniques personally,” Hugh shrugged, “Never attended.”

“You never attended?” he was surprised by that, “I thought all of France’s best spies were trained there. Well, at least the best. Perhaps not all.”

Hugh laughed, “You flatter me! No, I had no formal training. I took up gun and knife and went headlong into war. Not the best way to learn how to be a spy, but you learn quickly when your life is at stake.”

“I see,” he felt very small right then. This man had to learn all of the things he did while he was on the job, and here he was feeling all flustered that his training was not serving him as well as he would have liked.

“You’ll catch on eventually,” Hugh hummed, “It’s not like we’re at war here anyways. We are just getting in, blending in, and collecting some intel.”

“Too bad it’s not an in and out job though,” he picked through his clothes in the duffel bag. There was nothing nice to wear, not that he would want to ruin his nice things in this dirty place.

“Indeed,” Hugh agreed, “A faster mission is always easier. Fewer tracks to leave behind. In this case, you’re going to have to get used to being very very close to the enemy, and knowing that they could turn on you without notice.”

He felt a bit of dreadful horror creep up on him at that. He looked at Hugh, who gave him a dark and warning look. Just as he had become alarmed at Hugh, Hugh had become wary of him. They would be wary of each other during this mission. He was not sure if it was so smart to get paired up with this spy, even if he did seem like he knew what he was doing.

 

Belgium, 1942

The heat of the battle was fierce and harsh. Outside in the streets, the blasts were powerful and loud. It was easy to feel the unsettling sensation of relative calm within the slightly tampered building. Once ravaged by a misplaced bomb, the building went unscathed in its remains, leaving four walls, a floor and a ceiling in each room. It was not the best place for a spy to be hiding, given the obviousness of it, but it had been a long time travelling to get here, and none of them were willing to give up the opportunity of a somewhat warm place to lay their heads.

The food here was a kind of gruel made up of mismatched ingredients that their hosts had managed to scrounge together. Amidst five spies, nine soldiers and three snipers, they were too hungry to actually gripe about it. Being given any food was a miracle in their minds.

He was seated between two familiar spies. Both of them were sent from the French militia to help serve in Belgium, and hopefully shift the movement into Germany. The man from England sat with his soldier comrades, most of which had come from British militaries. The German spy sat alone, twiddling his food for the most part. He was mostly an outcast amidst these people, being unable to overcome the rhetoric that his people had had established for them by Hitler’s reign.

His eyes shifted to the snipers, one a friendly American who liked to talk a lot – especially about his home – and two Russians who had lost their way headed South instead of West. Those three did not feel at all like they belonged there, but they kept busy amidst themselves anyways, an American displaced from his continent and two who meant to return homeward from their mission.

An elbow nudged him and he glanced over at Hugh. The man jerked his head at the window, drawing his attention to a bird who had alighted there on the window sill. He stared at it a moment before giving his superior a curious raise of the eyebrow.

Hugh shrugged and returned to the gruel. He seemed rather pleased with the food, even if it was not to his standard of food. The man had truly high tastes when he could afford them. At the same time, he was a fantastic actor, and given that the hosts were nearby, it was more likely that he was trying to be gracious for their good nature.

He glanced to his right at Percy. The man was paying less attention to what was going on around him than anybody. Of the three of them, he was the youngest and least experienced spy. He just seemed completely out of place in this line of work.

Still, Hugh had insisted that they had to look out for him. Hugh was a little bit of a mother hen in a sense. Then again, he was their superior, in age and experience. The man was cunning and clever, and he readily tried to bestow that feeling upon the younger two spies.

But if Hugh ever decided to turn on them. Well, there would be no telling one way or another, would there? The man was a fantastic actor. He knew how to manipulate people too. He could make a scene with emotions that made him out to be the most uncontrolled person in the world, while in reality he was bringing everybody to bow at his feet.

“Heads up, ladies!” one of the soldiers announced, “Message from headquarters!”

“Alright! Let’s hear it!” one of the other spies hooted.

All three French spies tried to act nonchalant about it. They kept their heads down and their focus on the food in front of them. It was just a cover for their interest in what the English had to say to their men caught in this little pocket of Belgium. Unlike their British and German counterparts they had been trained in the art of finesse. The other two just openly listened, tired eyes trained upon the speaker.

“We are to move the spies into Aachen before the surprise strikes roll in,” the soldier announced, as he read over a piece of paper, “For now, the snipers are to stick with us until we rendezvous back in Liége.” The other soldiers nodded in response.

“We’re not really required to follow British orders,” one of the Russian snipers spoke up.

“Just stick with us for now,” the speaker said, with a bit of tight irritation in his voice.

“Yea, but we have somewhere to be,” the other Russian sniper noted, “We’re not supposed to be here. We have commanders to respond to.”

“For now, you’re stuck with us,” the speaker said, his lips tightening into a thin line.

Hugh caught his attention with a flicker of his eyes. He glanced over to see the man moving his finger along the table. It was quick so he had to be fast at reading, though it helped that he was writing in their native tongue. He was suggesting that they kept a post for the night, lest the snipers tried something.

He nodded in agreement, glancing over at the snipers. If they started problems and killed some of their escort, it would be more difficult for them to get to their destination. And if they did not get there, they would be delayed further in stopping this damn war.

 

The night was relatively quiet. Most of the bombing had died down. It was distant too, leaving them a subtle backdrop of blasts to sleep to. Shortly after handing off his post to Percy, he found himself stirring. There was a loud clatter of what sounded like a pot. Then there was shouting.

He leaped right out of his bed and grabbed his revolver. Nearby he could hear Hugh already darting from his bed, which was much farther from the door than his own bed. They both charged for the door, then poised at either side of it, letting it swing open with cautious looks around the hallway outside. Percy was supposed to be in the hallway for his post, but he was not there.

He led the way, with Hugh at his back to guard him. He held his revolver at the ready, wary that anything or anyone could come around the next corner. Luckily the next room, which was the kitchen, was brightly lit up by the overhead lamp, which swung wildly. He could tell from the way the light was moving side to side.

“Quickly,” Hugh breathed in French, not wanting to push past him in his rush. He still had to be aware of anybody who might catch them from surprise from behind.

When he came into the light, he found five dead bodies already strewn across the floor. His toe touched a fallen soldier, who was piled on top of by two other soldiers. Nearby was the English spy and another soldier. Overwhelmed, his brain sort of stopped trying to think about the next step. Sure they had been in war and he had been manipulating people for several years now, but this was nothing like any of his training. This was so very real, he had spoken to these men not hours ago, and they were now all dead on the kitchen floor, and he did not know what to do about it.

“Move!” Hugh commanded, rushing past him out the door.

He shook the feeling from his body and darted after the other spy. The sounds of shouting and outcries had already carried to their ears. They came out to find the two snipers fighting with the two remaining spies.

His eyes went from the snipers to Percy. Dread hit him as the feeling of knowing what was going to happen next filled him with frustration at not being able to do anything about it. He could only watch as the loud pop pop caused blood to fill Percy’s mouth. The man stared at the Russian blankly, before he dropped to his knees. The two men turned on the German, who rushed out of the way, not wanting the same fate as Percy had.

“You want to leave, then leave,” Hugh growled. The snipers looked at the three remaining spies, each of which had a revolver in hand, though the German was heavily panting with his hanging by his side. “We are not going to stop you. Just go. No more blood.”

One man grabbed the other, before the snipers hurried off. They slung their rifles across their backs as they headed off across the small street. They darted out of sight in the darkness before the spies finally started putting their guns away.

“You alright, comrade?” Hugh went to their German counterpart. The man nodded in silence, unable to answer.

Unable to believe it, he went to the body of the fallen spy. Percy’s eyes were wide open, staring with what could be read as disbelief, or horror, or perhaps the realization that he should not have come out here alone. Whatever it was, Percy had faced off with the snipers alone, which he was not supposed to do, and now he was dead. He closed the man’s eyes before he rose to his feet.

“If we remain here, we will face issues with the local authorities,” Hugh stated, tucking a cigarette between his teeth, “If we leave now, we might make it to Raeren by the next nightfall.”

He nodded, unable to say anything. If they stirred the remaining soldiers and sniper though, they likely would not move as fast as before. They would be faster on their own, without the encumbering weight of five soldiers and a sniper. He headed inside, leading Hugh and the German spy into their area of the house, where they could quietly gather their things.

German or French, they would have to trust this other spy now. Down by Percy, they could not risk trying to do this with just the two of them. They had a long way to go and when they got there, they had a lot of work to do. The man was supposed to be on their side anyways, a traitor to the Third Reich. That did not mean they would not be on their guards around him, but they needed him to make it to Aachen.

 

By morning, their feet felt so tired and sore that they had plopped down on the roadside for a break. The German was taking off his shoes, trying to relieve his feet of the pain and friction that had built up during the hike. Having no wheels to transport them made this a difficult trip.

“If we keep at this rate, we might just make it,” Hugh lied. There was a seed of doubt in his eyes.

“And if not?” he asked, hoping Hugh might offer an alternative.

“We keep moving,” Hugh nodded.

He sighed, “We can’t go on. Not like this. At this rate, we’ll kill ourselves.”

“How do you suggest we get there?” Hugh gestured with a burnt out cigarette in hand.

He looked around, his mind searching for an alternative. This was the twentieth century, not the nineteenth century. They had cars and other means of transport. Surely there was a bus heading to where they needed to go or a taxi. They were short on money, but they could scrounge up enough together for a one-way trip for at least halfway.

“Public transport,” he stated, “There’s plenty of it here. Even if there is war going on, there is always wheels going.”

“And how do you suggest we explain our German comrade here, if we are caught by the wrong side headed into German territory?” Hugh responded, quite casually.

“Are we not already in German territory?” he retorted, irritated at being shot down. He glanced at the German, who was staring down the toe of his sock.

“Depends on how you look at it,” Hugh shrugged, “But to each their own.”

He turned to the German, “How is your French?”

The man blinked up at him, like an innocent puppy. He glanced between the two of them with uncertainty. When he finally opened his mouth, he spoke the most broken and uncouth French he had ever heard.

“Oh God,” Hugh muttered in French.

“Fuck,” he sighed, shaking his head, “There’s no way we’re passing him for Belgian.”

Hugh chewed on his lip thoughtfully, “It’s a long shot, but how about a German deported from Britain?”

“Aren’t there particular transports for them?” he asked, unsure of the plan.

“Most likely,” Hugh scratched at the stubble turning into a beard on his chin, “We’ll have to keep our heads low.”

“This is risky,” he frowned, glancing at the German again. The man was trying to stay calm, but looked very freaked out about being talked about right there. His French was probably not so bad that he could not understand that they were debating about what to do with him.

“It’ll have to do,” Hugh settled, motioning to the German. He switched to German. “We need to get moving. Shoes on, let’s go.”

The German spy nodded and quickly put on his shoes to join them in walking alongside the road again. They would have to find transport in the next town. It was a long shot, but hopefully there would be a bus to take, or perhaps a car they could steal. Spies could not be above every single law to get the job done.

 

Bielefeld, Germany 1943

They were so far from their goal. They were supposed to be down in Frankfurt and Nuremberg by now, whittling at some scientists that were supposed to be down there. But, he had followed Hugh around North Germany, keeping close to him at the best and worst times.

Though, he could not argue that they were alive. Anybody who ignored or disregarded Hugh’s advice ended up dead or worse. Torture was always worse. And their German comrade had not lasted long. He had all of the falsified papers and even the accent to blend right in, yet somehow he was found out by officials in Stuttgart.

Now they were alive, working with very little clues as to what to do next. They were supposed to be stopping some scientific research. The scientists working on unwilling patients were outside of the bounds of humane treatment. Forget ethics, they were researching ways to keep their soldiers alive longer, and even regenerate them after death.

Now that would be something, would it not? To be able to survive death not once but many times. That would be something useful in such a gruesome war. If this kept on as it was, the spies were sure to get the brunt of hate if this inevitably led to their loss. As it was, there was no telling whether the Allies or the Axis countries would win.

“The locals have been very forthcoming in this area,” he heard Hugh hum with delight. The man liked working people, he was like an artist with manipulating people. His words were the paints, and his behavior was the paintbrush. “I have a theory that we aren’t far from a laboratory now.”

“Laboratory? In Bielefeld? As if!” he scoffed. He could not fully dismiss the theory though, as it tickled the back of his mind of how many times Hugh had been right about theories and missions in the past year.

“Maybe not,” Hugh shrugged dismissively. He went back to humming some old French song.

How frustrating. The man was a veteran of manipulation. There was no getting around him. Even around the men he worked with so closely – probably even close friends and family – Hugh would manipulate and contort what was going on. He was never sure if Hugh was frustrated or angry, as he would often hide his frustrations behind a mask of happy. The happy humming might be the key if not for how often he hummed in various situations.

“Ever consider what you will be doing when this war is over?” he asked.

Hugh gave him a questioning look, “When the war is over?”

“Yea,” he reassured him, “When the war is over. What will you do?”

“When war is over,” Hugh scratched his chin thoughtfully.

He stretched out, making himself look relaxed as he took up the length of the hammock. The little house was very nice for something that had been abandoned. It was sad to think that the family had been rushed off to some ghetto or a train station for relocation, but he preferred not to think about it. It was better to relax for now, let his mind wander while it could.

“I think I might retire,” he offered.

“Retirement?” this sounded like a foreign concept to Hugh. The veteran always seemed very ingrained in his work, but he never expected that he would have second thoughts about retirement.

“Sure,” he shrugged, “I met this pretty thing awhile back, you see. Some mission took me to America. I met this pretty lady. Very nice thing.”

Hugh started laughing, “Of course. A woman.”

“What’s so funny about it?” he sat up to give Hugh a stern look.

Hugh laughed a little harder, “It’s always a woman that either drags a man into retirement or out of it!”

“Oh? What about you then?” he asked, with a stern tone, “You have anyone to woo?”

“To woo? I have already wooed him,” Hugh shrugged, returning to the papers he was reading through.

He sputtered for a moment. A man? He had wooed a _him_? That was not unheard of but very unexpected.

“Is this somehow something you did not want to hear?” Hugh asked. The smile never left his face though, perhaps covering some anger or irritation.

“No,” he shook his head hastily, “Just…unexpected is all.”

“Why?” Hugh gave him a questioning look.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “I dunno. I guess it’s just not all that common. I didn’t take you for that type.”

“Type? What’s my type?” Hugh’s eyelids dropped but his eyebrows rose.

“Y-you know,” he shrugged, “Just…into that. It’s different.”

“Different bad?” Hugh inquired.

“No, I just…forget it. It’s not important. Good for you that you have someone to go to,” he offered Hugh a smile, but the man did not seem convinced. What a frustrating man he was. “I just want to stop hiding my identity and keeping a hand on my revolver,” he went on, “I want to retire with my lady. She’s had a few kids, but I kinda like them. They’re scrappy types. And mine…he’s…” He realized that he was rambling and looked over at Hugh’s attentive expression.

“Go on,” Hugh laid the papers down and rested his chin on the backs of his hands, with his elbows on the table.

He bit his lip. He never really told anybody about the lady, other than his mother. She had died since then, but other than her he had told no one. His training was telling him to stop digging his own grave, while his more human side desired to share.

“One of those scrappy kids…is yours?” Hugh pressed.

He gave a small nod, “She named him Drake. Sends me pictures of him from time to time. I can’t keep them around of course, so I send them back.”

“She must start to think you are not receiving her mail,” Hugh noted.

“Not at all,” he replied, “We’ve made arrangements.”

Indeed, those arrangements included a tiny heart in the corner of the back of each picture. Just to show that he had seen the pictures and was returning them, he would draw a little heart on each one, to show that he loved them and wanted her to keep them. He looked forward to getting to see the boy in person, after years of being away. He did not like being away from her, and he liked even less knowing that he would go back to find his boy all grown up.

“Luck to you,” Hugh chuckled, “But war will always follow you. You will always need that mask.”

He hesitated, scratching at his cheek, as if there was a real mask there. He knew Hugh meant a figurative mask that they kept up in front of others. Someday he hoped to drop the charade and show his true feelings to his soon-to-be wife and his son.

“Will he take your name?” Hugh gave him a curious look, “I imagine you’ve already arranged that though, haven’t you?”

He nodded, “He’s taken her last name. It’s for safety’s sake.”

“Makes sense,” Hugh nodded in agreement.

 

United States, 2005

Spy woke with a start. He looked around his familiar room, reassuring himself that he was in his own domain. Nobody else could come in here, not without knowing how to find the door, and then having the key to open said door.

He had not thought of his early work or the Second World War in many years. Those memories had faded for him, or at least he had thought so. Thinking on them now, he felt rather strange.

“Huh…suppose Hugh told me he was gay all those years ago,” he chuckled to himself, trying to bring the man’s face back to memory as he woke. It was no use as he woke more and more, finding that his alert mind could not conjure what his tired subconscious had recreated in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Been wanting to write this since the previous story. But would have been even harder to track who is who without at least one name.  
> One week til i get internet to my computer. Then this posting will get easier.


	6. End of Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BLU team is recruited to protect Melisa and her unborn child. Andrew and hugh return from vacation.

Andrew woke with a start. It was early, way too early. But, his dream had him in a whirlwind of emotions that he just could not handle.

When he looked at the figure still lying beside him, he realized that part of it was not a dream. Spy’s face was in plain view, at least that which was not being covered by disheveled hair.

“You alright?” Hugh muttered.

Andrew hesitated, letting the name settle in his mind. His name was Hugh, but he still wanted to think of him as Jacques or Spy. It was strange but wonderful.

“I’m fine,” he assured him, “Just had a nightmare.”

Hugh turned his head, barely peeling his eyes open to look at him through slits, “You want to talk about it?”

“No,” Andrew shook his head. He scooted his hips so that he could lay on his side, closer to Hugh’s back.

“What time is it?” Hugh muttered, as he closed his eyes.

“Too early,” Andrew settled an arm around Hugh’s middle and laid his chin against his shoulder.

Hugh hummed thoughtfully, before he spoke, “May I tell you about mine?”

“You had a nightmare?” Andrew spoke softly, looking at Hugh’s face as it turned towards him.

Hugh took a deep breath as he turned, shifting onto his back. Andrew settled there, with his chest over Hugh’s belly and his chin rested upon his breast. Hugh sighed as he looked down at Andrew. Those brilliant hazels just brought him back to wondering how he had gotten so lucky to have this man love him.

When Hugh finally finished gazing at him in silence, he started with another sigh, “I was in Northern Germany again. With the…RED Spy. We were working on facilities there, but then you were there.”

“I was there?” Andrew hesitated, reminding himself that Hugh was telling him about a nightmare.

“He did not trust you,” Hugh hastily explained, “He thought you were a liability.”

“Was I?” Andrew felt a bit worried. Hugh was smart, but would he put aside what he needed to do for love?

“I…” Hugh hesitated, “I don’t really remember. It is just a dream though. And I wanted him to see that you were an ally. But…he did not see it that way.”

“What happened?” Andrew slipped his hands under his chin.

“He…pulled the trigger,” Hugh sighed and laid his head back, letting his eyes settle on the ceiling overhead.

Andrew shifted, unsure of what to do to comfort him. Maybe Hugh wanted silence. But maybe he wanted him to say something comforting. Or maybe Andrew should just hug him and let him feel loved and safe.

“It was unsettling for me,” Hugh finally looked at Andrew again, but this time he smiled, “It makes me realize just how much I care about you.”

“You’re just now realizing that?” Andrew blinked at him.

Hugh laughed softly, “Well, it helps to be reminded from time to time.”

Andrew lifted himself with his palms, walking himself up to be face to face with Hugh. He smiled at him, “You love me.”

Hugh chuckled, running a hand to the back of Andrew’s neck. He pulled him into a kiss. He whispered into his mouth, “Oui, I love you.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Sniper looked about the BLU base nervously. Everybody was only just waking up. Now with his girl at his side and some young assistant sent in Miss Pauling’s place, he waited for them to gather together. They were groggy and not all that willing to join in the conference that they were requested for.

“Alright everybody, calm down,” the young assistant called for their attentions. Of course, she had no idea how difficult it was just for Miss Pauling to get them to come around to attention.

Sniper chuckled, glancing at Melisa. Her unamused look shut him up. Why could she not see the humor in it?

“I need your attention please!” the young assistant pleaded. Nobody even batted an eye at her, most of them just sitting there sleepily or talking to one another.

Sniper looked over the group of men. All of them were sleepy eyed and barely ready for the day. He knew near half of them for about half a century now. They were the same old men he worked with day in and day out. Being on the side of the boss man’s assistant felt rather strange to him.

Melisa took to it though, putting two fingers to her mouth and blowing a shrill whistle. The noise startled them, half of them covered their ears and the other half just blinked at her sleepily. What a weird revelation they must have had, finally noticing the pregnant woman in their base.

“You are being recruited as body guards,” Pauling’s assistant announced.

They shared looks, and then a loud roar of voices rose in the room. Sniper could not make heads nor tails of it all. He could only sit back and watch the chaos. It was a little entertaining to see this wanna-be-Pauling try and sort out all of their concerns. Mainly they were mercenaries who killed, not the kind who babysat.

“This here is uh…” the woman’s head whipped around, “What is your name again?”

Sniper snickered as he saw Melisa’s frown, “Melisa.”

“Right,” the assistant turned her attention back to the mercenaries before her, “This is Melisa. She will be staying here for a while. And in the meantime, you’ll be guarding her.”

“And the intel you so desperately want us to snatch?” the Spy interrupted, with a smug attitude.

“Don’t interrupt her,” one of the Engineer’s barked at him.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” the assistant spoke a bit louder, trying to counter anymore comments or questions, “But…we cannot answer most of them.”

“What?!” the paler – and arguably younger – of the two Demos spoke up, “Why?”

“Because…” the assistant hesitated, at a loss for words for a split moment, “It’s classified.”

“You mean for us to babysit this lass?” the other Demo piped up. Sniper was surprised he did not already have a bottle of scrumpy in hand this morning.

“I wouldn’t call it babysitting,” Melisa put in, pulling her lips down into a frown, “I can take care of myself. It’s a sniper I can’t defend myself from.”

“A sniper?” Spy spoke up, his eyes flashing between her and Sniper himself, “Is that not _his_ job?”

“I reckon that would be more your suit of duties, Spy,” one of the Engineers chuckled, reaching over to pat the man’s shoulder.

The Frenchman looked a bit peeved, brushing some imaginary dirt from the sleeve of his suit, “What would body guarding from a sniper have to do with my line of work as a Spy?”

“You’re sneaky,” the smaller of the two Medics shrugged, “And you do have a tendency to stab Snipers.”

“We’re talking about a non-affiliated sniper,” the assistant announced, “Outside of the bounds of Mann Co is a hostile entity that wants Melisa dead.”

All eyes turned to Melisa at that. Sniper decided to be the next to speak, “Our goal is to keep her alive and healthy.”

Melisa cleared her throat, “And the baby.”

“And the baby,” Sniper nodded, feeling heat rise to his face.

“That means all of you,” the assistant clarified, looking over the large group of mercenaries, “Not just the Spy and the Sniper. All of you need to work together and keep this young lady safe.”

“Back to the question I proposed,” the Spy interrupted, “The intel? Are we to do both? Are you that insane to think we are that dexterous with two men missing in action at the moment?”

“Battles with Reliable Excavation and Demolition’s mercenaries have been put off due to the agreement,” the assistant replied.

Sniper gave a small sigh of relief. He would be able to dedicate all of his time and energy to Melisa, instead of worrying about her while aiming at a RED Spy through his scope. Even worse, he was worried she might try to join him out on the battlefield to keep him company in one of his nests.

“Due to the agreement, nobody is to go out onto the battlefield from here on, until the agreement becomes invalid,” the assistant finished, looking through some papers on her clipboard.

“And when will it become invalid?” the young Boston born Scout asked, curiously.

“Well, that all depends,” the assistant glanced over at Sniper and Melisa, thinking over her answer, “There are a lot of factors to consider. We may have to send a couple of you on recon missions for the purpose of finding out more about this entity.”

“And we’re just to sit here and babysit?” the Bostonian asked, “That’s all we gotta do?”

“That’s it, yes,” the assistant nodded, “Oh! And Mr. Hale sends his regards.”

“Who?” the smaller Medic exclaimed.

“Hale?” the older of the two Demo’s looked concerned, “You mean Saxton Hale? What’s he got to do with this?”

“Mr. Hale is now paying your salaries,” she nodded to him, “And you’ll be taking orders from him now.”

The Scout got a worried look, “What about Miss Pauling?”

“Miss Pauling is still with Mann Co,” the assistant stated, filling something out on her clipboard, “I am her assistant, after all.”

“You’re _her_ assistant?” the Scout sounded astounded.

She nodded, “I am her temporary stand in, as she could not make it today. Unexpected complications elsewhere.” She looked at the Scout and looked a little taken aback.

“Oh…right…good!” the youth tried to cover his excitement, attempting to play it cool. What a dork, Sniper thought.

“That will be all then,” the assistant put her clipboard under her arm, “Enjoy this time as bodyguards. We expect only the best from so many mercenaries being put to work with only one target.”

“We won’t let you down!” both Scouts piped up in unison. They exchanged a look and then laughed.

“Well, this sounds like more time,” the smaller of the two Medics had a delighted look on his face as he hurried from the room, being the first to escape the conference.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Melisa leaned over to whisper at him.

“You have no idea,” he shook his head in response. This could have gone so much worse than it did, he knew that for a fact.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The rest of the vacation was spent in bliss. So much time was spent trying to get to know Spy as a person all over again. Getting to know him by his name and his face was like trying to meet a new person.

To Andrew it was so surreal. Spy had taken off his mask and removed all of the Spy identity built up over the years, establishing a brand new identity with Andrew. He was a real person, with a face and a name.

Alas, all good things come to an end. The day they left, Hugh returned the blue balaclava to his face, covering his cheeks, those little ears, and his silky black hair. He returned right to the aura of being a mysterious Spy. Andrew would have to accept that as it was while they were on the base. He was sure Spy would not give him this opportunity again in a long time.

On the road, he closed his eyes, trying to burn images of their vacation in his mind. He wished he had spent more time trying to burn Hugh into his mind’s eye. His face, his smile, the way it felt to finally meet the person behind the mask. These were all things he wanted to remember forever, even if he forgot everything else in life.

He spent so much time in his head that he had forgotten that he was still alone with the man. Hugh was quiet all through the drive. He was doing something new: humming. In the past few days he had taken to the sound, as if it was an old habit. Andrew was sure he never remembered the Spy ever humming, never aloud. Maybe if he was listening to a song, or trying to remember the lyrics of a song, but never quite like this.

Hugh had this strange way of humming now. It was cute. And when Andrew had commented on it the other day, Hugh had merely smiled and made a point of humming more. He was doing it on purpose, but it felt like it was some habit that he was doing without thinking about it.

“Is that a song?” Andrew asked, curiously. He doubted that they liked similar music, that was why the radio was off – because they could never agree.

“Something from my youth,” Hugh nodded, “From France.”

“What kind of song is it?” Andrew asked, wanting to fill the space of the silence.

“A love song,” he shrugged it off, “Nothing special.”

Andrew smirked, concocting an idea to get serenaded, “Lyrics?”

Hugh gave him a look, that was both taken aback and unsure of the question. After a few moments of silence, Hugh started singing. He started singing a bit loudly in French, letting his words fill the car. Andrew listened in silence, understanding none of it, but understanding that he had asked for it. Quite literally, he had forgotten that French songs were in French, and thus he asked for him to sing a song in French.

He waited for Hugh to stop before he spoke, “What’s it about?”

Hugh chuckled, “It’s a song of losing love. The singer was a Frenchman whose lover was deported. Every day he writes to her, but he never gets anything back. He just waits and watches for the letter.”

“Does he get a letter?” Andrew asked, eagerly.

Hugh hesitated, then shrugged, “I suppose he does not. He never says.”

“Oh…” Andrew frowned, “That’s pretty open ended though.”

“Not in French,” Hugh chuckled.

“French is weird,” Andrew stated.

“What about English?” Hugh offered.

“What about it?” Andrew asked defensively.

“It’s a mix of everything but the kitchen sink,” Hugh chuckled, “And there are exceptions to every single rule you make for it. What is the point of the rules if there are so many exceptions?”

“You don’t have such a hard time with it,” Andrew stated, feeling a bit miffed. He did not really have much control in what language he learned as a child.

“Yes, but there are always colloquialisms and such that catch me up,” Hugh stated. Andrew was sure it was a lie, the Spy was clever – too clever to not have gotten down every old saying in the United States.

“Blame the Brits,” Andrew waved a hand dismissively, “They made the damn language. I just use it.”

Hugh started laughing. He lost a bit of control and snorted. That made Andrew snicker a little. What a silly laugh.

But, they had arrived at the base. Here they had to be the Soldier and the Spy again. They had to drop their friendly chattering and playful banter. They were friends, but here they were only that. He hoped that they would at least get some time together later. For now, it was time to get to work, and maybe have a few beers with the Demoman.

He was not expecting to find Melisa there with the Demos and an assortment of other mercenaries. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision. Was he seeing things? The pregnant woman was having a glass of water while the others drank bubbly alcoholic drinks. They were loud and obnoxious, but had toned down on their violent behaviors while drinking.

“G-Sniper!” Hugh exclaimed, marching over to his friend with a look of frustration.

“Spy! You’re back!” Sniper tapped his hat with the mouth of his beer bottle. He was smiling giddily.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the Spy exclaimed.

“What’s it look like?” Sniper asked, motioning to the others.

“Oh, right,” the older Demo cleared his throat, “We’re not on intel duty now. We’re on…guarding Melisa duty.”

Sniper chuckled, “Saxton Hale’s ordered us to guard Melisa here at the base. No gathering intelligence or any of that nonsense.”

“This is the worst place to have her! You must be out of your mind!” the Spy roared with frustration.

“Ah! There you are!” Réne entered the room and called for the other BLU Spy’s attention, “Miss Pauling has left us some orders for retcon.”

“Retcon?” the glared at Réne suspiciously.

“You go on ahead and do your Spy thing,” the Sniper hiccupped, “We’ll just be.”

“Glenn, are you seriously wasted?” Melisa demanded.

The Sniper hiccupped again, “Maybe?”

“Glenn? Aww! Ain’t that adorable!” the older Demoman laughed.

Spy growled, rounding on his friend, “We need to talk! Now!”

“Not much chance of that,” Melisa interrupted him, “He’s seven bottles into it.”

“And everyone says I go crazy,” the younger Demoman laughed.

“Nobody says that!” the older Demoman barked at him.

“We need to talk now,” it was Réne taking Hugh by the arm this time. Hugh looked at him, then looked down at his arm, as if with confusion at being pulled.

Andrew sidled towards the Demos, who looked like they were having a grand time. He was greeted with laughter and pats on the back. They asked him all about where he had been, which he told a bunch of lies about. He told them about some cemeteries he had been meaning to visit for decades, to pay respects to comrades. He dared not mention a cabin up in the mountain forests.

When he turned to look for his Spy, the man was gone. He heaved a sigh and toddled over to Melisa. He hoped she was not still freaked out about what happened before.

“Hello, Melisa,” he greeted her with a small smile.

“Hi there, Andrew!” she turned a bright smile to him, “You seem refreshed! Enjoy your vacation?” She winked at him. What did that wink mean?

“Don’t bother him about it,” Sniper said, between hiccups, “He’ll…he’ll be…asked about everything over and over. I don’t think you wanna know about it either.”

Andrew shot the Sniper a warning glare. What did he think he was doing? Now that he thought about it though, the man was definitely drunk, and was not thinking about anything except how good he felt. He was likely not realizing how close to teetering off the edge he really was. If Andrew were a Spy, he would be working out a clever way to divert him from the room, so that he could reveal nothing more about what happened up at the cabin. But, he was not a Spy, so he clumsily grabbed the man’s arm and swung him towards the door.

“Let’s get you someplace you can sleep this off,” he commanded.

“What? Leggo of me, Soldier! I ain’t tired!” Sniper protested. As drunk as he was, his attempts to shake off Andrew were pathetic.

“I’ll just stay here,” Melisa laughed, joining the Demos.

“Hey! I wanna hang out where she’s hanging out!” Sniper motioned to Melisa with his half empty bottle.

“Come on,” Andrew insisted, pushing him from the recreational room, “You’re too drunk. You need to sober up.”

He caught the door to the kitchen in the corner of his eye. That was when a thought struck him. He swung the Sniper around and dragged him into the cooking area. Sniper teetered there, never quite falling but never quite standing upright.

“Why are we in here? This isn’t a place to sleep,” Sniper slurred.

“Coffee,” Andrew quickly started whipping together a pot, which required washing out the previous batch of coffee that had been left to sit in the pot since that morning. “Coffee ought to sober you up,” he assured Sniper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody likes the end of vacation. Is nicer when you can actually share about it with people though. It'll click for Andrew eventually.


	7. Old Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RED Spy and Hugh team up to find clues about the entity seeking vengeance on Glenn.  
> Andrew rekindles his friendship with Scout.

Waiting out by the water main, the two RED Spies opened up fresh packs of cigarettes. Neither of them shared, as they were not that friendly with each other. He could tell that this Italian was rather friendly though, in a general sense. He would have tried to befriend him if not for the threatening element of him being a Spy, the last Spy who did not know what was going on.

“There they are,” the Italian growled. He stamped out an old cigarette amidst many old butts, as he lit his new one.

“Let’s go,” the BLU called Réne stated. He was dragging the other Spy along like a child. What a sad state for him to be in.

“Remind me again why we’re working with you?” the Italian snapped at the BLU angrily. Seemed odd for such a friendly guy – who used to be very friendly with this particular BLU – to suddenly become such a jerk.

“You heard the assistant,” Réne stated, “We’re not to work on this alone.”

“You are suggesting we work with REDs?” the other BLU Spy scoffed.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Réne responded, “I mean, it’s not like I am against going against Mann Co orders. Wouldn’t be a first time.” He glanced at the Italian, with a glint of something in his eye. “Yet, I would say that we might have to be more careful,” he added, “We’re working for Saxton Hale now.”

“Man is known for his temper and his ability to crush a Yeti’s skull,” the Italian noted.

Spy rolled his eyes with a sigh. Better to get on with this than to drag it out, “Alright. We’ll take my car and head over to the shooting site.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good…” Réne gave the Italian a pointed look, gesturing for the RED Spy to understand, “idea.”

He glanced at the Italian and rolled his eyes. Of course, he was the only Spy who did not know. If they brought him into the city where evidence was, he would find out. That would just be a bunch of nasty paperwork that Spy himself would have to deal with. He got away with his hints to the BLU, but he was not sure that even not being involved in the reveal would remove his duty as a team handler to deal with the paperwork involved.

“Why not, Réne?” the Italian asked, with a haughty and angered tone.

RED Spy exchanged a look with the other BLU Spy. Neither of them were involved in this conversation anymore. The two other Spies just broke out into argument without them.

The BLU Spy cleared his throat, “Teams then?”

The Italian nodded, “RED and BLU.”

“I’m not b-” Spy clenched his fists and his jaw, having almost sputtered about being saddled with babysitting the Italian Spy. The two BLUs gave him curious looks, until he relaxed.

“Fine,” the Italian growled, pointing to the other BLU, “Jacques, you come with me.”

“No, Jacques is coming with me,” RED Spy argued.

The Italian rounded on him, “Don’t stick me with Réne!”

“Too late,” he reached out and grabbed _Jacques’_ wrist and headed off for his car.

So Jacques was this Spy’s name? If that was the case, then he might have been wrong all along about this being his old mentor. That left him with a disappointed feeling though, seeing as his mentor would otherwise be dead if he did not work for Mann Co. So much for the respect he had for the BLU Spy.

“Where are you taking me?” Jacques demanded in French. He shook off RED Spy’s gloved hand.

“My car,” he stated, “We’ll head to the site of the shooting.”

The BLU got a look on his face. Was that fright? Surprise maybe? He was not sure, so he let it slide off his mind as they climbed into his old Chevy.

It was a long drive to the city where the woman lived. It would have been closer if they had been driving from the old base. Part of him wanted to swing by the old base, just to see it. It felt like a home they left behind. Of course, so had the icy valley in which his old base had been, where the BLUs had been based in the coldest icy front.

The BLU said nothing to him the entire way. They simply sat in the car, listening to a playlist of old classics from France, Belgium and Switzerland.

When they finally arrived in the city, RED Spy started having trouble. He rarely ever came to the city. There was no reason to be here on most occasions, so he did not know his way around.

“You’ll want to take a right here,” the BLU stated.

The RED gave him a curious look, before obeying the advice. “You seem like you know where you are going,” he commented.

“I have been there before,” the BLU admitted.

“You have?” he was only a little surprised. This woman was supposedly one of the BLU Snipers’ girlfriend – BLU Spy’s friend no less.

“Not during the shooting,” the BLU insisted, “But I have been to the location before this.”

“I get it,” the RED waved off his explanation.

He pulled up in front of the address, but found there was no space to park. The narrow street did not offer many opportunities along the sidewalk in front of the house. He had to pull up the hill and look for a spot elsewhere.

When they finally clambered out of the car, they headed down the road to the house. They paused at the door, neither of them having a key to enter. The BLU Spy quickly found that they did not need one, as the door had been left unlocked.

“Not very smart,” RED Spy chuckled as they headed into the house.

What a quaint little place it was. It had plenty of space and felt lived in. It had warm lighting, but an aura of dust circulating through the air, as it had been a while since it was last cleaned. He paused at a display case to run his finger along the wood, to find his gloved finger covered in dust.

“He was not specific,” the BLU Spy said aloud, heading into the next room.

RED Spy quickly followed him into a small den. Laundry had been tossed aside. The wall opposite the windows as well as the couches had been pelted and torn into by bullets. The BLU Spy was looking over these, when he turned to the windows.

“The sniper was over there,” the BLU Spy approached the windows, his eyes taking in the buildings across the way.

“Where do you get your information from?” RED Spy asked, more out of curiosity than anything. This Melisa woman had appeared out of the ether, and from his information, she served no purpose for Mann Co. Just like Saxton Hale, there had been no preparation or input as to why the woman was there and why Mann Co wanted her there.

The BLU Spy shot him a glare. He turned his attention back out the windows, studying the buildings across the way. Finally, he pointed, “There, that must be it.”

“Here’s hoping something is still over there,” the RED Spy replied as they left the building.

They searched two whole buildings. Both proved to be very empty. Room after room turned up nothing but clean spotless rooms.

They were studying another room when the BLU Spy finally spoke, “I wonder how long you had been holding out on information, knowing that others were being used day in and day out.”

RED Spy turned and gave him a frustrated glare. He knew what he was talking about. He needed no clarification that those who eventually found out were a bit frustrated with handlers for hiding this information. The BLU Spy was no exception.

“And to think you actually did try to tell me,” the BLU Spy went on.

He softened his glare as he looked at the man. There was a familiar and kindly look on his face, while he overturned a mattress and its bedding. It held that same warm gesture as it did back in the Second World War. The RED had to let out a breath as he realized he had been holding it back, thinking on how this must be that same spy.

“Thank you,” BLU Spy lifted his gaze. He gave the RED a surprised look though.

“For what?” RED Spy used a haughty shrug to dismiss the concerns. It felt good to be thanked for his work though. “I was simply following Miss Pauling’s wishes. It was her idea, in the first place,” the RED Spy stated, pushing off responsibility for having freed the BLU of his ignorance.

“You could have ignored them,” the BLU argued.

“And deal with Miss Pauling? I don’t think so,” the RED immediately retorted, carefully shuffling through the contents of a night stand.

“You don’t care about the Administrative assistant,” the BLU stated, retreating from the mattress, “You never did.”

“So?” the RED said defensively. He reached into his jacket for his disguise kit to pull out a cigarette. “I’m a handler, I have certain duties to serve.”

“Antoine, I’m trying to thank you! Just take it!” the BLU exclaimed.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A charge of electricity ran through his body with alarm. He turned his head slowly to look over at the other Spy, who was shuffling through the book shelf’s contents. It was so off-handed, the way he said his name.

“You always were the one to try and practice appearances on others,” the BLU growled with irritation.

RED Spy chuckled, rising from the night stand, “Well Hugh, given you always wore appearances, it was a bit much to catch up to.”

The BLU Spy eyed him. They stood there in silence for a minute, the BLU Spy reaching for something on the shelf, but remaining still. They had not had this friendly a conversation since the war. Of course, you could not really call it a very friendly exchange.

“Didn’t you know?” the RED Spy asked, with a tone that spoke of how obvious it was, “The other spies looked up to you. They followed you.”

“Until of course foolishness would lead one of them off into death, or worse,” the BLU Spy returned to his search of the book case.

“You always thought you knew better, that you knew everything,” the RED growled, with a bit of resentful irritation.

“Was I ever wrong, Antoine?” the BLU’s tone was one that tested the waters with the use of the RED’s name.

“No,” Antoine shook his head, “No, Hugh. I suppose you were never wrong.”

Hugh chuckled, offering a small kindly smile for that. It felt like such an old smile that it should have died out by this time. So strange that something like that felt so nostalgic to him too.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew stuck pretty close to Melisa. She did not seem to realize that she had surrounded herself by a bunch of drunk mercenaries. Maybe she did know and she was just trying to blend in by playing it cool. Either way, he would guard her safety, lest she fall privy to an accidental backhanded fist when a brawl broke out.

He tried to stay as close to her as he could. Sniper was off being too drunk. He had been given coffee, but had eventually passed out on the couch in the recreation room. He was out of commission so Andrew stuck by the woman, keeping her out of harm’s way and advising her against dangerous areas on the base.

She seemed to know the base pretty well for a stranger. She seemed to realize where to turn to get to the bathroom. She knew where the shower room was and that it had no door. She knew where their rooms were, and even where Sniper’s room was. She knew everything in this base, inside and out, as if she had worked there. That seemed very strange to Andrew, and it made him frown with thought.

“I’m just going to lay down for a while. Is that okay?” she had her hand on the door to Sniper’s room.

Andrew nodded, saying nothing. He had gotten sucked into thought. The door closed and he was still in a whirlwind cycle of pondering what was going on. He was so stuck in his mind that he did not even hear the set of boot steps headed his way.

“Soldier, you alright?” a familiar Boston voice caught his attention.

He was surprised to see Scout. Thinking back, he rarely saw the kid around anymore. At least, not like he used to. He used to stare at the youth too much, now he rarely even took note of him.

“Was just thinking,” Andrew shrugged.

Scout laughed, “That’s a dangerous pastime, isn’t it?”

Andrew was not sure what that meant, so he shrugged. There was silence for a minute, filling the hall with awkwardness between them. Scout stood there, scratching at the back of his neck and making a bit of fuss.

“You need something, son?” Andrew asked.

Scout cleared his throat, shifting on his feet, “Well, I was just wondering…if you’re not busy…if you’d like to hang out or something.”

Andrew pursed his lips for thought. He could not remember the last time he spent any time with Scout. There were times when they hung out in the recreation room to drink with the Demos. There were even times spent celebrating victory over the REDs. It had been years since they spent any time together though.

“Sure,” Andrew glanced at the door behind him, “I just need to check on Melisa from time to time.”

“Who assigned you to do that?” Scout scoffed, “Besides, she’s Sniper’s girlfriend, ain’t she? Don’t tell me otherwise. I noticed them making puppy dog eyes at each other. You can’t pull wool over my eyes! Why d’you gotta look out for his girl?”

Andrew shrugged, “She ain’t just a woman, Scout. She’s carrying a little baby.”

“Yea? So?” Scout folded his arms with an indignant huff, “What about it?”

“Didn’t you have a mother, son?” Andrew asked, hoping to offer perspective.

Scout put on an angry scowl, “Yea? What about her? Just leave my ma outta this!”

“Well, she used to be a pregnant woman,” Andrew noted, motioning to Scout.

“Yea, like a dozen times, with like a dozen kids,” Scout huffed, “What of it?”

“You used to be a baby yourself. Don’t you think about that? She’s carrying around a little boy or girl just waiting to grow up,” Andrew offered.  
Scout pursed his lips, quirking them to the side with a thoughtful look on his face. Andrew decided to wait while the younger man pondered this predicament. The young man gave him an odd look, as he pondered Andrew’s point of view.

“Well, it ain’t like it’s born yet,” Scout finally said, with a shrug.

“Yes, but it’s still a baby, no matter whose it is,” Andrew argued.

Scout sighed, his eyes diverting to the floor nearby. After a while he seemed to cave, his shoulders sinking. His eyes did not turn back to Andrew though, perhaps too ashamed of himself to look at the man.

“But, let’s hang out, Scout,” Andrew offered him a smile, hoping to compensate for the quickly failing conversation.

 

He ended up following Scout down to a training gym. There, the youth put wraps on his hands and they started taking turns holding a large punching bag for the other person. Scout seemed like he had a lot of pent up energy to be throwing it so terribly at the sand bags.

“What’s eating at you, son?” Andrew asked.

“Why you keep saying that?” Scout asked, as he returned to his patterned 1-2 succession of punches.

“Say what?” Andrew scrunched his brow. Had he already forgotten about something he had already said?

“You keep calling me son,” Scout said, never taking his attention away from the bag he was beating up.

“Oh…” Andrew looked at the floor. He did not have to put much effort or thought into holding the punching bag. After so many years, what little training the Scout had did him no good in the punching department. “I dunno. Suppose I just picked it up as a habit or something,” he shrugged.

“Soldier,” Scout hesitated between punches, “You ever think about…what it was like before all of this?”

“Before what exactly?” his mind went back to before he was hired to Mann Co. He did not want to go back there, not wandering and homeless again.

“Before the new teams came around,” Scout answered. He leaned sideways to look at Andrew. “I mean, I get that you were there with them. You worked with them for a while. But like, they don’t know you as long as we have known you. You ever think about what it was like before?”

“Oh!” Andrew flinched, surprised at the explanation.

He paused to think about it. Everything had been so simple back then. He did not have to think about what he said around whom. He did not have to worry so much about friends who were having a terrible time, and who was drinking too much. Hell, Sniper had not been so much as an acquaintance of his back then. And now he had to worry about Spies, _all_ of the Spies.

“I suppose it was real simple back then,” he shrugged, “But, I wouldn’t have things going backwards.”

“Seems kinda complicated to throw more mercenaries in on the team, when RED is just doing the same thing,” Scout said, with a bit of resentment on his tone.

Andrew wondered where this conversation was going, but could not guess on his own, “I suppose that was the reason.”

Now that he thought about it, it felt strange. Up until he went down the Mexico, RED and BLU had acted as two separate entities. Nobody ever really thought of themselves as Mann Co employees. That had been a parent company to their employer companies.

But after being a RED himself, he saw that RED was run exactly the same way as BLU. It was like they were just colors. In this case, they were just names of companies that did and wanted the same thing. Though, it made sense that they were wanting the same things, as Redmond and Blutarch both wanted their father’s territories for decades. Though that begged the question, where were the twins and how were they still alive? Were they still alive?

He was shaken out of his thought process by Scout snapping in his face, “Earth to Soldier!”

“Huh?” Andrew blinked at him, dumbfounded.

‘I was asking you about-” the youth’s words seemed to catch in his throat and he sighed. He shook his head and let the topic drop. “Nothing,” he returned to his systematic punching of the bag.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” Soldier grumbled.

“What am I doing wrong?” Scout asked, with a bit of irritation on his tone.

“Here,” Andrew stepped around the bag to help reposition the boy’s stance. He was so unbalanced that there was no power to his punches. “Stay in this little bubble of space,” he instructed, “Just dodge within this area, and hit from your entire body, not from your arm.”

“My body doesn’t do the hitting,” Scout frowned at him.

“I’d beg to differ,” Andrew chuckled, “Give it a try.” He returned to holding the punching bag.

After a minute of the Scout shifting the position he had been instructed into, he returned to punching. This time, he punched once at a time, each time the youth started to better realize what he was doing. Andrew could only grin as he saw the revelation running through the boy’s eyes. He felt a bit proud, even if the youth should have known how to do this for half a century now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels good to have internet on the computer again. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did. More is coming about Spies and more secrets and stuff.


	8. I Disagree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody's dropped by to kill Sniper, and probably Melisa.  
> Two Spies who love each other are at odds with each other. Lover's quarrel and such.

Melisa could find no reprieve from the Soldier, outside of Glenn’s assigned room on the base. It was not very comfortable, as all of his personal comforts were in the camper. She had tired of that space already though, given that it was a hefty climb to get up onto the bed and it smelled musty. The man really needed to learn how to clean better. But, it was the only place that the Soldier would not follow her into, he would linger outside or down the hall.

But, Andrew was stalking her from the moment she stepped out of the bedroom. And now that she had had her cat nap, one of the Scouts was following along too. She was not too certain, but she thought it was the kid Glenn had worked with for the most time, the one from Boston.

The child-like Scout was bouncing on the balls of his feet and chattering up a storm with Andrew, while they followed her around. Andrew was relatively quiet, serving as an ear for the Scout’s ramblings, instead of something to bounce off of. He seemed content to simply absorb the energy coming off of the enthusiastic younger man.

Before long, Melisa was starting to wonder about the relationship between the two. There was an obvious age difference, even if Scout was no longer the actual age that he looked and acted. All the same though, they had this strange relationship that just clicked. She had never really noticed it before on the screen, though maybe those clips were never shown on the actual show. Editing was an interesting thing, since it could omit so much detail of their personal lives, she thought.

In this case, she wondered that maybe the Scout idolized the Soldier, despite his behavior in other ways that expressed a common thought shared among the mercenaries. That being that Soldiers were typically dumb, slow, roaring oafs that often needed an extra helping of knuckles to get them to shut up. She did not think of Andrew this way herself, of course. She knew he was better than that. But she wondered how close the two might have been all these years, without anybody realizing it.

“Got any baby names?” the Scout suddenly asked her.

“Excuse me?” she blinked at him.

“What are you going to name it?” he pointed to her belly, which made her feel a bit self-conscious, “The baby, I mean.”

“Name’s an important thing,” Andrew nodded thoughtfully.

Melisa looked from Scout, to Andrew and back. She had a moment of realization at how surreal this all was. She was standing in the BLU base, Glenn’s workspace, and the place that she saw on the television. Of course it was not the same base as when she had first met Glenn. Or even the one from a few years back, before they moved to this specific base. All the same, there was something surreal about standing here in the middle of the BLU base, talking to the Scout and the Soldier. It could only get weirder if somebody like a Spy showed up.

“Yea, have you thought of any names yet?” the Scout asked, with eager curiosity.

She hesitated at that question. She had not actually considered names in a while. She had sat down with a book some time back. Of course that was boring though, so before she could even settle on a type of name for girls or boys, she had closed the book and turned on the television.

She finally shrugged with admission of guilt upon her face, “I have not really given it much thought. I should have…but I haven’t.”

“Sooo…” Scout bounced on the balls of his feet for a minute, “You’re just going to call it _the baby_ from now on?”

She glanced at Andrew, but found that he had no input for this. He just kind of stood there, quietly listening. She shrugged to Scout, not entirely sure what to tell him. It was not necessarily that she neglected to name it, or at least, that was what she thought.

A loud blast startled the three of them and they turned. Once he had shaken the fright, Scout took off like a rocket, bounding towards the source of the sound. Andrew started forward, before he realized something and turned to her.

He pointed to her, “Wait here.” He bounded off without another word.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew charged unarmed into the recreational room. There he found the Demos, the other Soldier, the other Scout, the Engineers and Alhwin dead on the floor. He shook their deaths off, realizing that they would be revived through respawn in a few minutes. He took cover by the couch with Scout.

“Sniper shots!” Scout exclaimed.

Andrew nodded, “You distract him, I’m getting Melisa out of here!”

“Gotcha!” Scout darted off to grab a gun.

Andrew hurried back to find Melisa. She was not where he had left her though. Panic hit him and thoughts of her murder ran through her head. He panicked for her safety and for the fact that he had told her to remain right there.

He ran up and down halls, searching behind every closed door. He broke through the doors that were locked. By the end of one hallway, he had broken his dominant hand, leaving a mess of bloody splinters in his knuckles. He hissed as he rubbed his hand, but continued on his journey to try and find the woman.

“Not on your life!” he heard a familiar French voice. He rushed towards it, hoping the Spy might have spotted the obvious woman on the base.

“Are you suggesting she remain here?” the Italian Spy scoffed.

Andrew came out to clearing to find Réne and Maurice arguing, while Melisa stood by. She looked rather confused, but stood slightly behind Réne. The BLU Spy seemed to be a point of safety for her. Maybe the familiarity of a BLU was what she needed.

Andrew knew both Spies though. He knew that regardless of his team, Maurice was a good hearted man. In spite of Andrew’s rejections of the man’s friendship long ago, he was a good friendly person.

“Melisa!” he called out, trotting towards the woman in question.

“Soldier! There you are!” she sighed with relief, backing away from the Spies. She seemed to put Andrew between herself and the Spies.

“Soldier! Tell him! We need to get her out of here,” Maurice pleaded.

Andrew turned to him, blinking at him. Of course Maurice was helping. Why was he surprised? The man was too friendly, and Andrew knew it first hand as his previous teammate. Réne was friendly too, but not the way Maurice was friendly.

“Yes, let’s get her out of here!” Andrew took Melisa’s arm, as if to affirm that she would stay at his side. He was legitimately scared that she would get lost in this base again.

“Maurice, you’re not driving,” Réne stated curtly.

“What? Who’s gonna drive then? Soldier doesn’t have a vehicle!” Maurice scoffed in protest.

“Do RED Spies do this often?” Melisa turned to Andrew with a quizzical look. He did not really feel like answering her in the midst of their arguing though.

“Let me drive,” Réne stated firmly.

“No! You don’t have half the experience!” Maurice retorted.

“Maurice, I’ve lost the police in near half the countries of Europe, Venezuela, Mexico and the United States. I can handle driving a getaway car fine,” Réne stated.

“And I have legitimate practice you _don’t have_!” Maurice exclaimed angrily.

Andrew cleared his throat, “We should be going now!”

“Just a minute,” Réne motioned to him dismissively. He seemed to have forgotten the reason they needed to drive in the first place. “The last time you drove, you spun out and nearly died. You’re not getting behind the wheel again.”

Maurice scoffed again, “I already have! And I will again!”

“Don’t,” Réne was very firm, much like a parent trying to discipline a child without actually disciplining them.

“Watch me, pazzo incompetente!” Maurice spat, turning to trot over to a vehicle he had brought to the BLU base. When he turned, he addressed Andrew. “Let’s go!”

Andrew looked over at Réne, who shot him a warning glare and a small shake of the head. Andrew had no choice. It was do or die, and Melisa could not afford to die. They had to get her out of here.

The distant pop pop of a sniper rifle caused them all to jerk. Andrew’s head swiveled between the car and the woman. At the back of his mind, he was relieved that everybody had flinched, as it meant that he was not hearing things. But, he realized that this meant an impending sort of doom laid ahead for him.

He took Melisa and started towards the car, “She needs to get to safety.”

“Not in that car!” Réne barked, putting an arm out to block them.

“Stop this nonsense!” Maurice exclaimed.

Andrew sidestepped Réne’s arm, “Let me through. We don’t have time.”

“Let’s just go! It doesn’t matter who’s driving!” Melisa put in, standing squarely next to Andrew.

“He’s _not_ driving!” Réne exclaimed with frustration.

Maurice stomped over, immediately poking his finger into Réne’s chest, “What the hell is your problem? One thing after another with you! And you won’t even give me an explanation! You don’t trust me? You don’t let me? You won’t allow me? You don’t give permission! You never owned me, and now you barely know me!”

Melisa tapped Andrew’s shoulder with a tentative finger. He looked over to her confused face and almost chuckled. She had probably caught on to what he already knew, she was quick like a whip, after all.

“Like, seriously, are they always like this?” she lowered her voice.

“It’s best to let them be then,” Andrew answered.

She tugged on his arm, pulling him towards the car. It was sitting there, idling with a quiet engine. It looked like a really nice car, with a fresh coat of wax to make it shine. Melisa guided Andrew towards the passenger seat, while she herself climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Hey! My car!” Maurice spun around with surprise.

The two Spies started towards him. Andrew just about opened his mouth to respond, but the car whipped him around. He felt dizzy, as his entire world spun out of control. Melisa seemed to have decent control of the vehicle though, putting it into gear and heading out onto the road like she knew just where she was going. Andrew started to ask where she intended to go, but a bump sent his head into the roof of the car. He gave a pained grunt and retreated inward, paying attention to protecting himself while remaining silent.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Maurice stared, astounded as the woman and the Soldier drove away in his car. He had not expected either of them to be the types to jack a friend’s car. He quickly turned to the BLU Spy, who rounded on him.

“Look what you’ve done!” the other Spy roared angrily.

“Me? This is your doing!” Maurice declared angrily.

“If you would have listened me, the Soldier would not have taken the suggestion to heart!” the BLU Spy declared angrily.

Maurice clenched and relaxed his fists several times. He wanted to beat the living crap out of the man. How long had it been since they were kissing on each other? And now, all he could think about was putting his hands on the man in the most violent way possible. How strange that a bad and pointless breakup led him to feel so violent and crude towards somebody he still cared about.

“The woman was in need of transport! Unless you intend for her to remain and die here!” Maurice declared, “It should not have mattered! This shouldn’t be one of your pettiest moments!”

“And you? Demanding to be the driver? What were you thinking?” the BLU Spy scoffed at him.

Maurice felt his face heating up. He was so furious at him for his accusations. His last race had ended in disaster, that did not mean that he would _never_ get back behind the wheel again. Getaway driving was just not the same as actual focused practice of racing on public roads. What made it worse – what made him angriest – was that looking at the blue masked face, he could only remember those hints of love, lust, comfort and quiet times spent together. How frustrating to be so angry, but also be reminded of how much he wanted to make this man his again.

“I _do_ have a lifetime more of practice behind the wheel than you,” Maurice growled angrily.

“What? And you think I don’t?” the BLU Spy retorted with frustration.

“Oh sure, speeding off to get away from police is totally the same as practiced technique,” Maurice rolled his eyes, “Of which you would know nothing of!”

“Don’t try to change this subject,” the BLU Spy waved a hand dismissively.

“Me? You’re the one who changed the subject!” Maurice declared with frustration.

“Now we have to catch that damn girl and Soldier,” the BLU Spy stomped off.

Maurice quickly followed after him, catching the hint that they were headed to the BLU Spy’s Cadillac. “She is a woman, Bleu. Don’t call her a girl when she’s obviously more than of age,” Maurice told him snidely.

“You should stay behind and clean up,” the BLU Spy protested, trying to dismiss him with a gesture of his hand, “No telling when the others will be back.”

“The rest of the team will be back through respawn,” Maurice argued. He used his longer legs to his advantage, hurrying ahead of the other Spy to get to the vehicle.

The BLU Spy picked up a trot to keep up, “We still do not know who we are dealing with! We need somebody to stick behind and take up the hints, before those ruffians muck up the place.”

“Nonsense,” Maurice darted the last few yards to the car, darting to the driver’s side.

He found that the BLU Spy had forgotten to lock it. Panic hit the other Spy as he rushed to stop him. Maurice quickly hopped in, closing and locking the driver side door. He reached under the steering wheel to pull aside a piece of the plastic, to reveal just where the man hid his keys. What a foolish place to put them, as Maurice always knew where they were – but only now had he ever revealed to the BLU that he knew where they were.

He started the ignition, then smiled at the BLU, who banged on the window. He refused to open the window or unlock the door. He simply sat there smiling. He was not giving up his seat as the driver.

“So help me, Maurice!” the BLU called, banging on the window.

“No,” Maurice merely stated.

“Maurice! Open this door!” the BLU Spy banged loudly.

“You’re wasting precious time,” Maurice placed his hands on the steering wheel, with a patient look about him. He had waited at long stop lights before, he could wait for the other man to cave.

When the man finally did cave, he stomped around to the passenger seat with the hugest pout. His entire body slumped forward, his face got an irritated look, and his tone became very grating, with a hint of a stronger French accent than the one he usually spoke with. He threw himself into the seat and slammed the door.

“Okay, I’m in the car!” the BLU spat angrily.

A small smile creeped up on Maurice’s face as he put the vehicle into gear and took off. The BLU Spy reacted dramatically, overreacting to what was a little speed. Maurice merely rolled his eyes as they headed out onto the route that the woman and the Soldier had taken.

The BLU Spy had his leather shoes against the dashboard and his hands on the ceiling, attempting to brace himself. What terror he must have been in. How much trust could he have ever had in Maurice if this was how he felt about his driving? Feeling frustrated at the man’s response to him driving, he drove a little faster than he needed to. Perhaps it was a little faster than he should be going.

“Maurice,” the BLU Spy spoke nervously, as they neared a ninety-degree curve.

Maurice had been driving this road since they had gotten here. Not that the BLU Spy would know, or even notice his absence. To so easily dismiss somebody from their life was a telltale that that person was no longer taking notice of said somebody.

“Maurice!” the BLU Spy exclaimed.

Maurice set the car up, bringing the speed down by nine miles an hour. He supposed it did not matter if he was measuring kilometers or miles anymore, it was all about the feel of the car.

“Maurice!” the BLU got louder.

“Yes?” Maurice’s tone was dismissive, as they came upon the curve.

“ _Maurice_!” the BLU shouted.

“Yes, Bleu?” Maurice asked calmly.

The BLU Spy tensed as they rounded the curve. Out of the corner of his eye, Maurice could even see his eyes closing. What nerve.

He took the turn a little harder than he needed to, so they were coming out of the turn sideways. The forceful momentum sent the BLU Spy right into Maurice. It felt like a momentary embrace, with the other man’s body pushing up against him because of the car’s momentum. He felt so in control too; and it was almost as it used to be when they were together.

“Please stop!” the BLU shouted, as Maurice pulled the car out of the spin and sent it straight down the road.

The BLU panted heavily, as he repositioned himself in the passenger seat. He braced his feet against the floor and clung to his seatbelt. He was acting like these were his lifeline.

“You want to pretend like I can’t control what’s going on,” Maurice stated, sullenly.

“You barely have control in this job,” the BLU growled.

“Bleu,” Maurice sighed with irritation. He put some emphasis in his voice so the other Spy realized that he was using his name.

The BLU Spy adjusted in his seat, resetting his tie and suit jacket. He was like a ruffled bird with all of the fussing. Maurice simply watched him out of the corner of his eye, though he kept his attention on the road ahead. Or at least, he kept the other Spy thinking that he was entirely focused on the road.

Bleu finally got his breath to speak, “Maurice, I know you think you can do this b-”

Maurice reached over blindly, flinging his arm into Bleu’s face. The man floundered, surprised by the hit. Maurice quickly returned his hand to the steering wheel.

“The hell was that for?!” Bleu exclaimed angrily.

“You’re being a patronizing dick,” Maurice stated, keeping his eyes on the road, “You’ve done nothing but treat me as a child and as trash since we got here. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, _Bleu_. I really hope it’s not something serious and unchangeable, but it is certainly not the man I fell in love with.”

“You think you are in control, but you are not,” Bleu told him.

“It’s give and take, Bleu,” Maurice growled.

“I’m serious, Maurice,” the BLU Spy growled, “You have not been in control since the very beginning. You’re hardly able to keep within the bounds of what is a Spy. You’re impulsive and reckless. And now? Now we work with _real_ Spies! You realize that? Do you even realize that?”

“Shut up, Bleu,” Maurice growled. Heat was building up in his body as rage became a boost to his frustration. “You don’t know what you’re even talking about!”

“Do you even realize what could happen to us?” Bleu demanded.

“What? What could possibly happen Bleu?” Maurice rolled his eyes, trying to play off his anger. He could tell that Bleu already knew though. The man knew him and his temper all too well.

“We’re working with real Spies!” Bleu exclaimed.

“Yea? So? Fuck ‘em! Just don’t actually fuck them,” Maurice threw an arm up dismissively.

“Both hands on the wheel!” Bleu exclaimed in fright.

“I got it! I got it!” Maurice scoffed. He took a deep breath though, trying to calm down his own temper.

“This is not one of your races. You can’t just boulder through everything, Maurice!” Bleu exclaimed loudly.

“And what? You are going to stop me?” Maurice rolled his eyes again.

“Jacques might!” Bleu exclaimed, “Or perhaps the RED? Perhaps the both of them will figure out what’s going on, if they don’t understand already what we had. You flame up with such a temper, it’s all too obvious!”

“Fuck them!” Maurice exclaimed, angrily. He shifted down as they came upon a sharp slope.

“Easy! Easy! EASY!” Bleu braced himself, with one hand on the seat, one hand on the ceiling and both feet pushing against the floor.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Just shut the fuck up!” Maurice raised his voice. He was trying to calm himself down, but Bleu was just making him get angrier.

“Maurizio! Slow down! Slow down or stop the fucking car!” Bleu shouted.

“I’m not stopping the car!” Maurice exclaimed.

“Stop this fucking car!” Bleu exclaimed, reaching over to grab his shoulder. If he was not a trained professional driver, Maurice might have freaked out and jolted at that. “Stop my car! Just stop!” Bleu continued shouting.

“No! This is not what i-” a familiar vehicle caught his eye and he quickly slowed down. The tail lights were blinking, showing that somebody had turned the hazards on.

“The fuck happened here?” Bleu asked, perplexed at seeing Maurice’s car parked on the side of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maurizio "Maurice" is a very passionate type of person.  
> Bleu "Réne" thinks himself fairly professional, but feels fairly incompetent compared to Hugh and Antoine.
> 
> Updating the google doc, aka the cheat cheat, aka character notes, aka my notes.


	9. The Runaway Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is just trying to get Melisa to safety.

Andrew was relieved to find that the calm and quiet of the forest was calming for Melisa. She had become overwhelmed with sickness in the car, to the point that she pulled over on the slope. Now she leaned against a tree, one head clenching at the bark, as she heaved.

Andrew gently rubbed her back, trying to be a comforting aid in her time of need. Though, he was starting to think that she needed the Sniper at her side. There was only so much that Andrew could do. There was only so much he knew about her and what to do for her. Common sense did not always take him so far with people, so he was surprised that she was not angered by his presence yet.

She started to wipe her mouth on her sleeve when he offered her a tissue pulled from his pocket. He had a whole box of them, in case of the sniffles. The woods were colder than the Mexican desert, after all.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she wiped her mouth.

She turned her head, and he followed suit, as a car came squealing down the slope. It came to a stop and two Spies clambered out. Réne came running from the passenger side. There was a slight fumble to his step though, hinting that he was dizzy or something.

“Are you two alright?” the Frenchman asked, with a bit of panic in his voice.

“We’re fine,” Melisa turned her focus to the tissue in her hand, nervously, “Thank you, Spy.”

“Please. It’s Réne,” he offered, with a kindly smile.

Andrew smiled in response, “Réne, we didn’t need to waste time. Maurice, I’m sorry for stealing your car.”

“Y-yea,” Melisa butted in, “Sorry for hijacking your car.”

“It’s fine,” Maurice approached with his hands in his pockets and an irritated but calm look about him. It made Andrew feel guilty for stealing the vehicle.

“We just…needed to get out of the base,” Melisa stated, a bit hesitantly.

“It’s alright, we understand,” Réne said, with a soft and kind smile. He was trying to come off as friendly towards Melisa.

Andrew noticed Maurice rolling his eyes, with an irritated look about him. He stepped towards him, hoping to offer some sort of offer of regret for taking the car. Maurice snapped around though, as a truck came barreling down the road.

“My car!” Réne exclaimed with fear, as the truck’s breaks started squealing down the road.

Andrew winced as the truck slammed right into the back of Réne’s car. It was loud, as the front of the truck destroyed the rear bumper of the smaller car. The truck seemed to take the hit easily, unaffected by the force. The Engineer who stepped out realized this and easily dismissed the bumper of his truck in his mind.

“Anybody seen M- Oh there she is!” Engineer wiped his brow in a sign of relief.

“I’m fine,” Melisa nodded to him, approaching the destroyed car, “Though, I think you owe Spy a new bumper.”

“Whoops,” Engineer hooted, but he did not sound apologetic about it.

“That’ll be more than a bumper, man,” the Bostonian Scout popped out of the other side of the truck.

Réne sputtered with disbelief for a minute. Finally, Maurice walked over and patted him on the shoulder with one hand, while placing a fresh cigarette to his lips with the other. “Shame that. And to think you thought I would wreck it.”

“You almost did!” Réne rounded on Maurice angrily.

Andrew frowned, confused by the man’s violent temper. He never showed much emotion. He was fairly placid most of the time, unless he was otherwise smiling. And to Maurice of all people? It seemed impossible that Réne could get angry, but here he was getting angry with him.

“Forget it, Bleu,” Maurice threw his hands up in the air with defeat, “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m not hopeless! You’re just reckless and out of your fucking mind!” Réne exclaimed angrily.

Scout walked over to Andrew, staring at the display the Spies were making with confusion. Andrew was glad to see that he was not the only one confused by this. It was out of sorts for Spies to be showing more emotion than anybody else there, after all.

“Do you know what’s going on between them?” Scout asked, pointing to the Spies with one thumb.

Andrew shook his head, “No idea. Let’s go.” He motioned for Scout to follow, then turned to Melisa. “Let’s get out of here before a sniper comes along.”

Melisa nodded and they hurried as a conglomerate to Maurice’s car. The Spies barely came out of their argument in time to chase after them, jumping into the back seats of the vehicle. The Spies ended up sandwiching Melisa in the back seat, as Scout had taken the passenger seat and Andrew had taken the wheel. Melisa had gotten sick the last time she was in the driver’s seat, so he figured it was best if she did not drive this time.

When he took off, both Spies started yelling. Whether they were yelling at Andrew, or at each other, or perhaps the Scout, Andrew could not tell. He tried to ignore it, pushing it out of his mind, while he stepped on the gas. He needed to concentrate on the road ahead, after all.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh sighed as he leaned back. The seat he was in reclined slightly, allowing him to lay back. He felt an overwhelming sensation of exhaustion, as if his very bones were feeling his age. It was frustrating to feel so exhausted.

“Think they’re throwing us for a loop?” Antoine asked, blowing ash out the window. The cold air blew in against their bodies.

“Mann Co? All things considered…they would do anything,” Hugh stated with agreement.

He eyed the other Spy thoughtfully. He wanted to chuckle a little, so he resorted to humming. It was interesting to notice that the other man had been surprised at being found out. Everything about his reaction, from the flinch, to the paleness in his face, to the curiosity in his eyes, stated that he had been unsure that the BLU Spy was Hugh, and he was surprised that Hugh remembered what his face looked like enough to recognize him through a RED mask. It was nice to hum again too, feeling like a little part of himself had returned to another place.

He was genuinely happy, over all. Despite the age, despite how long it had taken him, despite being somewhat brought down a wrung, he felt happier than he was. He was not happy a long time ago, but it felt good to hum like he did back then. He did not remember being able to smile with such grand delight as he did with Andrew, not back then when work felt more important than it really was. He did not feel like a smile would be a mask, he had to force himself not to smile. But, perhaps he could risk smiling a little around Antoine; just a little smile, paired with a little humming.

He noted Antoine looking at him. “But what do you think?” Antoine asked, with a frown, “What do _you_ think, Hugh?”

He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. They were silently looking at each other, while the city passed by them outside the windows. He was not sure this was anything like it used to be. Antoine was different, he was all grown up, as a man and as a Spy. He was an independent thinker who could hold his own against the greatest Spies, Hugh was sure of that. So, why was he asking Hugh for guidance again?

He turned his eyes back to the road ahead, “I suppose we’ll find out eventually. Mann Co has had a very questionable relationship with the mercenaries who are aware of their current line of work. It would not be far to say that perhaps they wanted to cut a line from one of their mercenaries to somebody on the outside who inspired them to leave.”

“You think so?” Antoine’s words made a shiver run down Hugh’s spine. It was not because of Antoine or his question, but rather the realization of what Hugh had just said.

Melisa was very special and important to Glenn. There very little else Glenn liked in the world, certainly not many friends he had at work. But, to realize that Melisa was inspiration for Glenn to leave Mann Co was more than just a guess. Glenn wanted to leave and start a domestic life with his girlfriend, probably even marry her. Hugh _knew_ this to be a fact.

He took a deep breath, thinking back to what Glenn had told him. He told him first about wanting to take long vacations with Melisa. Then there had been something about taking years off to spend time with her. And now, they had a child on the way, something that would pull him away more than anything in the world. If having a legitimate family hanging around was not enough to threaten Mann Co’s hold on a mercenary, Hugh did not know what was.

“We need to get back to Melisa,” Hugh growled.

“Noted,” Antoine gave him a suspicious tone, “She’s being guarded by sixteen capable mercenaries.”

“All of which are incapable of guarding something,” Hugh growled, “Given how many years BLU team has spent losing a fucking briefcase to the RED team.”

“I wouldn’t say you didn’t all put your best in,” Antoine offered as consolation.

“They are mercenaries,” Hugh growled, deepening his voice in hopes of making Antoine more aware of how serious Hugh really was, “They are not bodyguards. That woman will die if we do not get her to a safe house.”

“Is that not what the base is supposed to be?” Antoine asked, picking up the speed of the car.

“No,” Hugh put a new cigarette in his mouth, forcing his hand not to shake with anger. How frustrating it was, as the thoughts turned through his mind at how genius it was for Mann Co to do this. And of course, how stupid he was to have missed it. “They played us for fools! It is a distraction! She’s not there to be guarded by mercenaries. She is there to keep them in the cameras, where they can be monitored, and she can be tracked!”

“Let’s pick up a pregnant woman,” Antoine shifted the car, passing several cars as his tires squealed against the blacktop.

As if the ominous feeling was not enough, a thick white fog began settling upon the city and the mountains. It made driving this fast very deadly. As if it was not stressful enough that they were so far from the base as it was. Hugh did not need this bullshit, he needed to get back to the base and protect his best friend’s girlfriend.

 

When they reached the base, they were surprised to find it mostly deserted. Every vehicle, including the Spy cars had all been taken. Hugh cursed under his breath, figuring Andrew must have remembered where he stashed the keys to his car. He was glad that they were no longer under surveillance, but frustrated that he knew nothing about where they might be now, and terrified at what might happen while they were all so far from the respawn. The respawn only reached so far, so there was no promise that he would be rescued from a sniper shot.

He clambered into Antoine’s car and they hurried off to find them. They passed the RED base, leaving Hugh to wonder if another vehicle sat there, where all of the other RED teammates were undisturbed. They probably had no idea what was going on, possibly being kept in the dark about the woman carrying the BLU Sniper’s unborn child.

“The REDs won’t be of any help,” Antoine said, as if to dissuade him from such an idea.

“I imagine not,” Hugh settled back into his seat.

“Most of them don’t know what is even going on,” Antoine explained, “And some of them have become indifferent or even wrathful towards BLUs.”

“Is that so?” Hugh asked, with a bit of indifference to what Antoine was explaining. His mind had gone to where Andrew could have gone. Or perhaps where his other teammates could have gone.

“Thought those new REDs were pals with the BLUs,” Antoine shrugged, “Seemed strange. But, they had a weird harmony. But, now even the Spies are at odds, as you could probably tell.”

“What’s so particular about them?” Hugh asked.

“Two lovers?” Antoine snickered a bit. That caught Hugh’s attention. He never really paid that much attention to the other BLU Spy. “I would have thought the whole world would know about them by now. They just became vicious though. Most of them did though.”

“The ones who came up from Mexico?” Hugh raised a curious eyebrow.

Perhaps he should have paid more attention to the other Spy, given he never realized the man had his own love. That would also explain the Italian Spy’s words in Andrew’s room. It also kind of explained why the Spy was in Andrew’s room in the first place, being friendly instead of holding animosity towards the BLU Soldier.

Antoine nodded, “Effects of being around us maybe.” He scratched at his chin, pausing to glance at some gray hair in the mirror. “They were not so…vicious…before coming to this team’s base.”

“Do you feel bad for being such a terrible influence?” Hugh questioned.

“Not at all,” Antoine blew another puff out the window, “But, maybe they should have stayed in Mexico.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Slow down!” Réne barked with frustration.

“Dio mio! You’re chaotic on the road! Drive a straight line! There aren’t even curves here!” Maurice yelled.

“Switch drivers!” Réne called out.

“Pull over!” Maurice shouted.

“Holy shit, Soldier! Can we pull over!” Scout cried out, “I’m getting-” The younger man put a hand to his mouth with a sick look on his face.

“Negative! We have to reach a new destination at this time!” Andrew announced.

“Are you insane?!” Réne cried out with fear and frustration.

“Please! Amico! Let one of us drive!” Maurice pleaded.

“Let me drive!” Réne reached forward to put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. It surprised him, and caused his hands to jerk on the wheel.

“Andrew please! Just let somebody else drive! Please! For the love of God!” Melisa cried out.

“No! We’ve lost a significant amount of time!” Andrew announced. He pushed the pedal, determined to get them out of this county, where the sniper might not find them.

“Hey look!” Scout exclaimed, pointing to the side view mirror at his door, “Uhh…that’s not BLU Engie.”

“Huh?” Andrew peeked at the side view mirror on the driver’s side. He was surprised to see that the Builders League United vehicle had disappeared, being replaced by a Reliable Excavation and Demolition truck.

“That’s weird,” Scout noted, “When’d those guys get involved in this?”

“They didn’t!” Maurice exclaimed.

“What are they doing?” Réne exclaimed.

“How would I know? I don’t read minds!” Maurice snapped at him.

“Well they aren’t supposed to be here! Where’s our tail?” Réne exclaimed, noting that the BLU truck had disappeared.

“Fuck,” Maurice put a hand over his fedora as he poked his head out the window to look back at the truck.

“Well? What do you see?” Scout asked, trying to lean out with the RED Spy.

“Scout! Don’t lean out there!” Melisa reached out, her hand snatching the Spy’s coat.

Maurice peeked at her curiously, before returning his attention to the truck behind them. He seemed rather puzzled about it. Maybe there was something he was starting to notice about it.

“Well?” Réne pressed, with an irritated tone.

“That’s our Engineer. That’s Dooley!” Maurice exclaimed.

“Dooley?” Réne asked, with a perplexed tone.

“Everybody stop yelling,” Andrew raised his voice as loud as he could.

“Why’s the RED Engineer following us?” Scout asked, loudly.

“Where’d the BLU Engineer go?” Melisa exclaimed.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Maurice exclaimed.

“Wait! Wait! Just shut up a minute!” Réne exclaimed, as he leaned out the window.

“Who’s that with him?” Melisa turned in her seat.

“Stay forward,” Réne pushed Melisa around, “Head down.”

Her eyes widened but she obeyed the hand pushing her. She seemed perplexed and frightened. She was so far removed from her element. Poor girl probably never been chased before, Andrew thought. She probably had no idea why this was all happening, not that Andrew knew for sure. But, he could guess that Sniper had sniped a person and that made somebody very mad, angry enough to get revenge.

“You’re all distracting the driver!” Andrew raised his voice again.

“We’re trying to figure this out!” Maurice exclaimed.

“Maurice! Just sit down!” Réne reached across Melisa to pull on the back of the RED Spy’s suit jacket.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Maurice swatted Réne’s hand away.

“Ladies! Please!” Andrew growled loudly.

“Incoming!” Scout exclaimed, as bullets pelted the car.

“Dammit! My car!” Maurice exclaimed.

“Andrew! Take the next right!” Melisa threw herself forward, pointing ahead of the steering wheel.

“The next right?” he asked her, perplexed at her sudden reaction.

“Just do it!” she exclaimed, before lowering herself, protecting her heads from any bullets that might come through the window behind them. No bullets came from the rear window though.

Obeying her command, Andrew turned at the next right. It was a sloping loop that took them all of the way around into a circle. That circle led upwards onto a bridge. The bridge went over the road they had just been driving on and down towards a slope of the mountains. From here, Andrew had a magnificent view of the forested mountains, with ice on the caps and greenery as skirts. It was a magical appearance, that made him only feel lonely.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Scout exclaimed, as scatter bullets took out the side view mirror on the passenger door.

“What the hell?!” Maurice shrieked. Both Spies remained low though, pushing the pregnant woman out of sight of the rear window.

“Stop worrying about your car!” Réne exclaimed loudly.

“But it is getting destroyed!” Maurice cried out.

“Defense, ladies!” Andrew shouted, “We need some form of counterstrike!”

“We don’t have any artillery!” Réne shouted.

“Yea, I’m not even armed!” Scout exclaimed.

“Dammit, did nobody leave with a gun in hand?” Andrew growled with frustration. He felt frustrated at himself.

“There are guns in this vehicle,” Maurice admitted.

“Great! Where are they?” Scout turned in his seat to speak with the Spy.

“In the trunk,” Maurice replied, with despair in his voice.

Scout frowned, “You asshole.”

“I did not think my teammate would be shooting at us!” Maurice exclaimed.

“But why?” Andrew asked himself aloud. He did not understand what was going on with the RED team anymore. It seemed they were not friends anymore, and that seemed to sever all ties.

Maybe someday they could be friends again. Maybe somewhere, in another world, he and Engie could be friends. But it seemed like, as it was, they could not be friends. Not that he understood why. That part of it all just did not make sense, as he could let himself be friends with a RED, if just for having known the man as a previous teammate. He could deal with being killed by the man every day, if only he would show a littler comradery like he once did.

“Why Engie?” Andrew looked over at the next turn, where they would head into heavy traffic. There were a lot of cars there, and they would likely get lost out there.

“Perfect! We’ll lose him down there!” Scout pointed excitedly.

“That’s the idea!” Melisa responded, with equal enthusiasm.

“If I were behind the wheel, this would be much simpler!” Maurice exclaimed, “I would have dealt with this already!”

“Shut up! You’re not getting behind the wheel!” Réne exclaimed. It did not seem right that he kept telling Maurice what he could and could not do.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Maurice exclaimed.


	10. Slamming the Blacktop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew takes a leap of faith on his knowledge of the people he's been around.  
> The crew is still on the go.

The turn came up fast and there was not much time to think. Andrew had to act quickly or risk his friends and Melisa. Worse, he could risk her child. He was not willing to do that. Dammit, he was a Soldier! He was a man true to his brine, and true to the name he made for himself in the war! But, what does one do in a situation like this?

Andrew released the steering wheel, “Take the wheel son!”

“Hey! What the-? What the-!” Scout flung over to grab the steering wheel, while Andrew opened his door.

The blacktop was speeding by as he looked out behind himself. From here he had a better look at the RED Engineer. The man looked viciously angry, like he was going to run them over with that little truck of his. Maybe he would, since Maurice’s car was hardly sizable enough to withstand a hit from the other vehicle, not unlike Réne’s little car.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Réne reached forward to grab at Andrew’s blue jacket.

“The hell are you doing, man?!” Scout exclaimed, as he scrambled over the center console.

“Going to see a friend,” Andrew shifted over so that Scout’s smaller form could slip into the seat enough to reach the pedals, “Take care, kid.”

He released his last grip and let his body fall backwards. He had done this before. He had done something like it in training, meant to make him hardened and capable of handling a situation. He had done it twice, according to his memory, while in the war. But, it turns out that blacktop is nothing the muck and dirt that had been born down upon by legions of tanks and military vehicles.

His body hit the pavement and he immediately regretted everything. His head hurt and he wondered what Jacques would say when he found out what Andrew did. Oh wait, his name was Hugh now, wasn’t it? Then again, Andrew was probably bleeding in his brain right now, so he could call Spy anything, but that did not mean he was calling him by the correct name.

He forced himself to his feet though. No man ever survived a war on his back. He would not survive this if he remained on the ground. At least, based on what he had decided the Engineer would do, he was correct.

The RED Engineer’s wheels screamed against the blacktop, allowing the others just a bit more of escape. It became extended when the man jumped from his vehicle and ran towards Andrew. That twisted expression had changed dramatically to concern as he ran towards him. He immediately reached out to catch him, taking him by the arm and pulling him to the ground next to the truck. He was asking him if he was alright, but it was really hard to hear.

He assured the man that he was alright. He was not okay though. He could tell by the way his vision started to blur and the way his ears were starting to ring that this was getting very bad. He should not have leaped from the car like he did. Or rather, he should not have flopped from the car. He noted that for when he would tell his Spy about this adventure.

Engineer squeezed his arm, and then rushed to the back of the truck. When he returned, he was erecting a dispenser. He seemed hurried, as if there was some sort of chaos coming their way. Andrew wondered if the man knew about the sniper chasing after Melisa. Well, if he did, then why was _he_ the one shooting at them in Maurice’s car?

He braced against the back tired and forced himself up. Engineer came around and used his free hand to push Andrew back against the truck. He was trying to ease him back down to the ground, but Andrew was not ready to stay down just yet.

He raised a fist, and before the Engineer could react, his head was reeling. Andrew watched for a few moments as the Engineer reeled in confusion and disorientation. He rubbed his jaw, his eyes full of panic and pain.

Andrew could only feel a burning rage. It was a burning sensation that filled him to the brim with the feeling only a man who had ever stood up for somebody could feel. At least, that was what Andrew figured. If any man had stood up for another, he would know this burning rage. It was a fire that could only burn when others were in danger, and was entirely different from anything felt when one’s own life and wellbeing was in danger.

His own wellbeing be damned, he was mad at the RED Engineer for shooting at a car with a pregnant woman inside. Andrew stepped forward, despite the pain that shot up his back. He had forgotten how a bad landing could mess up his back. That just made him groan and drop to a knee. This was a very big mistake.

The RED Engineer took him by the arm and swung him around so fast that he thought he was being attacked. He flailed and flung his appendages this way and that, but to no avail. He was helplessly off balance, so flailing meant nothing against his opponent.

Much to his surprise, the Engineer settled him down next to the dispenser. He looked up at the man as he finally felt the cooling sensation of the dispenser’s healing power. What luck that he used to be a RED, because that must be why the dispenser was working.

“You just sit there and calm down,” the Engineer stated

Andrew hesitated, catching his breath. He was relieved to find he could finally hear clearly again. His vision started to clear up and he was starting to feel better. All of the aches and pains were starting to vanish along with the burning scrapes and bruises. It was so relieving that Andrew had to sigh, his muscles relaxing away their tension under the reprieve that the dispenser gave.

He never really thought about it during a fight. In a fight, when an Engineer set up a dispenser, it was the best place to go during a fight. It was the best location, because he could back into a dispenser, be mostly covered, and get a decent heal. Though, now that he had to think about it, he was not sure why he never realized that mind altering sensations that it gave off as it made the body regenerate to some original state of perfect health – or at least, near perfect health.

“The hell were you thinking, Solly?” the Engineer growled.

Andrew looked up at him, blinking away that dull confusion in his mind that came with the dispenser. He had to shake off all of those thoughts he had been thinking about too. It was time to remember the moment and what it was.

“You shot at us!” Andrew raised his voice, but he did not physically raise his body. He was too hesitant that there might still be a twinge in his back or a pain in his head if he moved.

“I didn’t know you were in the car!” the RED Engineer exclaimed, “I didn’t know it was you, I swear!”

“Why would you shoot anyways?” Andrew exclaimed, “That’s Maurice’s car!”

“I thought you hated Maurice,” Engineer had this nasty look, with his mouth twisted in an ugly frown.

“That doesn’t matter,” he lied.

Of course it mattered. It mattered a lot. Maurice and Réne tried to be friends with him for years. And he was finally friends with both of them, to some strange degree. That was important to him at least, but the RED Engineer did not know what that was all about.

“Were you outta your God damn mind?!” Andrew raised his voice a little more.

“You were the one in a Spy’s car!” the RED exclaimed.

“That’s got nothing to do with this!” Andrew exclaimed.

That was definitely true, because the vehicle he was in did not matter. The vehicle that had left with Melisa in it did not bear any reckoning with this situation. There was no reason to be shooting at the RED Spy’s car. After all, that was the Engineer’s teammate, they should get along well. Unless something happened since Andrew had switched back to BLU.

“Solly,” the Engineer pulled off his hat and rubbed the scraggly hair starting to grow there, “You’re gonna be the damn end of me one of these days.”

“You just about ended me!” Andrew growled.

Engineer rounded on him defensively, “I did _not_ throw you out of that car! You did that yourself!”

“I would not have to do that if you had just stopped shooting!” Andrew exclaimed.

The Engineer got a look and was silent for a long while. It was a very long while. His eyes started darting around, perhaps looking for an excuse. Andrew was tired of hearing excuses. He wanted to hear nothing but apologies and an explanation that he would help them protect Melisa.

“What were you doing in that car, Soldier?” the Engineer finally asked.

Andrew glanced down at his boots. It felt surreal now that he really thought about it. He paid it no mind before, but he was back to being a BLU, and his old teammate was still in a RED uniform. What a strange thing to realize, nearly six months after the change.

He looked back up at the Engineer and frowned. The man had changed a considerable amount. He did not clean up nice like he used to. His chin had an unkempt beard of dark brown, and the stubble on his head was proof to a lack of recent shaving. Unless the man was going for a new look, he was not taking care of himself the way he used to.

“On a mission,” Andrew stated.

“What mission would that be, Soldier?” the Engineer put on a smile.

It was an odd smile that came out of nowhere. So he was being friendly now? He was going to be agreeable with them and help them out? This would work out in Andrew’s favor.

He smiled back up at the Engineer, “Guarding human life.”

“Tell me more,” the Engineer smiled, with a look of interest on his face. He almost seemed delighted.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“What the hell was that crap?” Scout panted heavily. He never thought Soldier would pull something like that. That was more than risky, especially being this far from the base.

“Whatever the case, he has bought us some time to get out of here,” Réne said, with a sullen tone.

“Are you kidding?” adrenaline spiked through his body.

It was a bit of a rush to be behind the wheel again, as it had been too long since he had last driven a car. It felt a little awkward though. He was swerving a little on the road, and he might have been going a little fast, as Réne often complained. But, as far as Scout could see, aside from the honking cars outside their windows, there was no problem.

“Move over, amico,” the Italian guy clambered over the center console and pulled Scout right out of his seat. The guy just sort of had a way of moving that got Scout right out of the seat before they could crash.

“How’d you do that?” Scout slid into the passenger seat and straightened his body.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” the RED Spy crackled his knuckles.

“Maurizio, no!” the BLU Spy hung over the chair, gesturing with one hand.

It seemed kinda weird that he was so intimately close to him. Like, he was not intimidated by him or awkward around him in any way. Maybe they were friends? Or maybe they were just comfortable being that way because they were both European. Scout did not know. Why should he care though? He should not care, he thought.

“Maurizio, yes!” the RED Spy hissed with a delighted grin spreading from ear to ear, “Buckle up!”

“No!” the BLU Spy proclaimed, as the car jolted forward.

The Frenchman landed back against his seat with a loud oomph. He would have hit Melisa, if she had not moved over to buckle herself into the seat that the RED Spy had previously occupied. Scout buckled his seatbelt and clung to it with uncertainty, as the world zipped past them.

This was speed. It was amazing speed. It was like the kind of speed that somebody only imagined. And how could a car reach this speed? He had seen trains go pretty fast, but cars? Maybe a hundred and fifty. He glanced over to see that the speedometer was surpassing two hundred. Now this was some amazing shit. He had to treasure this, so he threw his hands up and hollered with excitement.

“Maurizio stop! No! You’ll get us killed!” the BLU Spy shrieked.

The RED Spy started laughing, as he carefully zig zagged the many cars moving along the highway. The car was like a part of him. Every movement just seemed natural to him. One hand rested on the shift, but he rarely even used it. There seemed to be only two gears he used anyways, fast and faster.

Scout had to get himself a car. He would get himself one of those fancy muscle cars that looked cool. He wanted a car that could go this fast too. Not like the old cars he remembered driving, when his ma would tell him to slow down. And back then he was only going like twenty-five at best. Maybe thirty. Now, they were booking it at near two hundred and fifty miles an hour.

“How are we not dead yet?!” Scout could barely hear the BLU Spy’s voice over the thunderous roar of the engine and wheels.

“I am fucking pregnant you fucking fucker! Slow down! I’m going to be sick!” Melisa screamed too loud for anybody to ignore.

The RED Spy got a look, like he regretted doing this. He quickly shifted down, bringing the car down to a slower pace. It did not feel quite as thrilling as before, but maybe that was for the best. He felt like he was coming down from an overwhelming high as the thunderous vehicle came down to a noticeably more similar pace to the cars around it. He would remember that drive forever, hea was sure of it.

He howled excitedly, “That was like- awesome! That was amazing!”

The RED Spy chuckled haughtily, “I do my best.”

“Never again!” the BLU Spy flung forward to grab a chunk of the red suit in the driver’s seat.

The RED Spy gave him a haughty glare, “Do sit down before you get yourself hurt.”

“Pull this fucking car over, or I’ll pull you out of that seat!” the BLU Spy declared.

“Stop switching!” Melisa cried out. Scout had not noticed that she was crying now. He felt bad that he had not taken her feelings and possibly her fears into consideration.

“There is no need to change drivers,” the RED Spy tried to brush the BLU Spy off, “I’m doing just fine here, as you can see. Look, Scout’s even having a good time!”

“He’s a speed junky!” BLU Spy scoffed, gesturing rudely at the BLU Scout.

Scout scoffed, “Rude!”

“I know right,” the RED Spy snickered, “This guy! Am I right?”

Scout never thought he could like a RED Spy. Before now, he only hated the guy he usually worked with. That guy was a snake who liked manipulating people and their feelings. Their other Spy, the third in the trio of French Spies was not so bad though. He was about as half as conniving as the French RED Spy, but maybe just as cunning.

Scout smiled at the driver and nodded to him. Maybe there was something to the REDs that he had not known before. Of course, this was one of those guys who came up from Mexico. Not that the ones that had joined the BLU team were all that special. Still, they seemed rather different, and this guy was a fast car driver.

This was the kind of guy Scout wanted to hang out with. If he was a speed junky, then fine. Scout would live with and deal with the fact that he was an eighty year old man in the body of a twenty something year old man, who liked the high of going fast. He could deal with that.

“How did you even get your car to go that fast?” the BLU Spy panted. He seemed to relax a bit as the car matched speeds with the cars around it.

“Pfft!” the RED Spy started laughing, “This vehicle is a custom made piece. I designed the engine myself. Though, I did get some help for the details, the interior, the nice shade of red.”

“You work on cars too?” Scout exclaimed. This guy was just full of surprises, nothing like those mysterious, too-good-for-anything-you-like French Spies.

The RED Spy nodded, “Sí, you like her?”

“Her?” Scout gave him a quizzical look.

“The car, amico!” the Spy motioned to the dashboard, “She was fashioned from the bones of a 1980’s racer. Her exterior was modeled after the most beautiful and stylish of cars. But…the best part?” He patted the dashboard, with a mischievous smile on his face. “I put together her engine, and everything that makes her tick. She is built for only the best performance, and that includes her twenty two hundred horsepower!”

Scout gave a low whistle, “That’s…that’s a lot, right?”

The RED Spy nodded, chuckling all the while, “She’s the perfect machine for speed!”

“Oh please!” the BLU Spy called out.

Scout glanced over his shoulder to see the man slumped in the back seat. He looked like he had been dragged through hell, his entire balaclava soaked in his sweat. He looked pretty messed up.

On the other end was Melisa, looking downtrodden and sick. She was slumped against the door, looking out at the world. She kept her eyes upon the distant horizon. He felt bad that they took her for such a spin, she was carrying several pounds of baby in her tummy, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit Andrew. Stay in the farking car! Hugh wouldn't do that you nincompoop!  
> *author does not agree with the characters in this chapter*


	11. Alone on the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper and Melisa try to reunite, but some Spy shenanigans get in the way.

“We are going in circles,” Glenn groaned. He looked over his boots at the head next to them. All he could hear was the irritated growl of the Engineer and the soft snoring of the Scout. “If you keep this up, Imma pass out dizzy,” he stated.

He had been playing it cool during the entire drive, his hat pulled down low and his boots rested up on the midsection of the seat. The back was just not spacious enough for a man his size. His legs were far too long and he had nowhere else to put them. All scrunched up back there, he felt like he was crunched between crates, like up in a barn nest. He could just fall asleep here, no matter any of the truck’s movements, he would sleep like a babe.

But the reality of the situation was not beyond him. He was hyper-aware of what was happening. For every minute that they were on the road looking for that little red car, was a minute that Melisa was out there somewhere, in danger. Even if she was not the target, she could be targeted to get to him. And best case scenario, she was just in danger of the crazy violence of the mercenaries she was traveling with.

For every minute they were moving through fog, so was Melisa. She was traveling with the Soldier, probably the Spies and who knew who else. He should have felt comforted at two Spies being with her, but the Engineer was not exactly specific on which BLU Spy. The Italian one he got, but the Engineer had shrugged and told him the name – Réne. The name meant nothing to him, having never used a name for a Spy before. Was his friend’s name Réne? He would have to test that out next time he saw him.

“We ain’t going in circles,” the Texan growled.

This was getting him nowhere. He peered out of the narrow window in the back, looking out at the foggy white that blanketed the forest. It was pretty, but terrifying. They could be so close to her, but they would never know it. There was no way to track where Melisa and the other mercenaries had gone. It made him wish she had a tracking device on her so he could press a button and know where she was.

His eyes widened as a thought hit him. He was none too technologically advanced, but Melisa had a few smarts in her. Enough of those smarts showed when she tried to instruct him in how to use a cellphone. He could never get into it, and he was not allowed to use one, because of his contract, anyways. But, he knew that Melisa had a cellphone on her at all times, especially during emergencies.

He put his feet down so he could sit up closer, “Let’s find a payphone.”

“What? Why? Who you gotta call at this damn time?” the Engineer growled, irritably. The man was really losing his temper, more so than Sniper remembered either BLU Engineer losing his temper.

“I know how to find Melisa,” he began explaining the thing that Melisa carried around in her pocket, in hopes that the Engineer might hurry up and find a phone.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Maurice looked over his shoulder at the two in the back seat. Both of them had passed out, each of them leaning on their respective doors. Bleu had his arms loosely crossed, while his head fell against the window. His body slumped down, while his legs sprawled to the side in an awkward way. It was a little tempting to snap a picture of the offending position he fell asleep in, just so that he could playfully blackmail him with.

They were not together anymore though, so he needed to stop thinking like that. Bleu might regret breaking up with him – that much was clear in the way he still acted like they were together – but he would have to work to earn back Maurizio’s adoration and loyalty. It was not fair for him to treat Maurizio like this and think he could just come back, like none of it happened or mattered. He was not so easily punted to the side and picked back up.

He sighed and scratched at his scalp through the balaclava. He hated the mask, but it was necessary. One glance over at the Scout reminded him of why. It was not really the fear of being discovered. His identity might as well not have ever existed, considering the disastrous accident, to which the newspapers referred to as the tragic incident that took his life.

It was not for the show either. Mann Co Productions was not important enough for him to worry about that. They could rot for all he really cared.

This job had started as an easy way out. Then he made friends, and they established a family, kind of like it was on a team. Then Bleu came into the mess and made it all messier. He liked the mess, he just did not like the cleanup.

Now that Bleu was putting him on the fence, he had a different look at life. Another glance over his shoulder at Melisa and he felt a weird twinge. It was not for her, not really. He knew it was for the sake of having a family in general. He always liked the concept of family, from when he had family to when he built it in Mexico. But, it was the BLU Sniper who was creating a family for himself. The others would not dream of having such a chance as what the Sniper had with Melisa.

He glanced at Scout curiously. The boy was leaning over the door shamelessly. His arms were tightly crossed but his legs were loosely spread. He was not slumped low like the Spy was, but his mouth hung open as he snored. It was rather funny, but Maurizio could not help but think about all of the brothers the kid had told him about. He had talked near-endlessly about the mother who had tended to him and more than a few other kids. Maurizio could empathize, having had a big family growing up as well.

He always liked the concept of family. If he could be in a family again, he would take the chance. But, there was never a chance coming. Now that he thought about it, so long as he was working for Mann Co Productions, there would never be a chance for it.

But, if he ever dared to take off the balaclava…

He touched his fingertips to his throat. His fingers felt the way it pulled smoothly over his skin, giving off the effect of a secondary skin. He could not feel them through the balaclava, but his fingers knew where the markings were. A mind does not forget pain, a mind does not forget scars.

He knew how they marred his body, and especially his face and neck. Burn marks, slice marks, and rope burns had altered him from what was probably a decently good looking human being. He could not remember what he looked like anymore, not without that balaclava, and not without those scars.

Tears burned his eyes as he took the next ramp. They hurt. They burned his eyes and they formed a painful lump to swallow in his throat. What a harsh seeming existence.

He was not really sure where he was going anymore. They were just moving to the next gas station. They would move until they could not move anymore.

“The lighting is bothering me,” he assured himself, in a soft voice.

He grabbed some facial tissue from the glove compartment and gently dabbed his eyes. He was careful not to rub, least he made the rims of his eyelids turn redder than they already were. He tucked the tissue away into his coat pocket, before turning to the weird buzzing noise that came from the back seat.

“The hell is that?” he asked.

All three sleepers jolted at the same time. Scout snorted in the weirdest way possible. Melisa gave a little squeak, then sneezed in a startled manner. Bleu sniffed, rubbing his eyes as he took in the world that had been waiting for him to rouse.

“What?” Melisa mumbled, as she rubbed her face.

“That,” Maurizio stated, as the buzzing started up again. It was a weird rhythmic sound.

He glanced over to see her reach into her pocket and pull out a small device. Of course he felt like a fool, never realizing it was a cellphone on vibrate. He felt like an idiot. Though, when he glanced in the rear view mirror, he had a warm feeling of delight at seeing the confusion on Bleu’s face. The BLU Spy looked like he was about to shit himself, though perhaps he was too used to seeing RED Engineers make new contraptions that could kill him.

“I am not sure,” Melisa said with uncertainty, “I have never been called by this number before.”

“Hand it to me,” he demanded, reaching his arm toward her.

She hesitated, before putting the cellphone in his hand. He flipped it open and put it to his ear. He was ready to hear anything. He was ready to hear a sniper’s taunt. He was ready for a weird noise to come over the line. It did not help that he built himself up for it, just to find that it was just the Sniper on the other hand.

“Hello? Melisa?” the Sniper asked.

“Is she there? Is it working?” he recognized Price, the Brooklyn born Scout.

“Ah, glad to hear it is the Sniper,” Maurizio chuckled.

“You rat, what are you doing with Melisa’s phone?” the Sniper growled.

“Trying to be sure she is not getting caught by a trap,” he answered with a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, it’s not a trap, it’s me,” the Sniper said, with a bit of irritation in his voice.

“Hey! Is that Sniper?” the Scout asked, “Lemme see!” the youth reached out to try and snatch away the cellular device, but Maurizio quickly held it out of reach.

“Who is that?” he heard the Engineer asking on the other end.

“It’s that freaking Italian spook!” the Sniper answered with disbelief and frustration.

“If it’s Glenn, just give it to me,” Melisa demanded, holding out her hand for the phone.

“Hey, lemme say hi!” Price was yelling over the other end.

“Would you keep it down! You irritating nancy!” the Sniper growled at the Scout on his end.

Maurizio grabbed the wrist of the Scout on his end with one hand and used the other to place the phone to his ear, “I’m sorry, what was that? Scout’s an irritating ninny? Oh no wait, you said nancy, didn’t you?”

“Knock it off, Spy!” the Scout on his end exclaimed, yanking his arm away.

“I ain’t no ninny! Or a nancy! That goes to you, you fuckin’ Spy!” Price shouted at the phone. Maurizio had to remove the receiver from his ear for that.

“Spy, give me the phone,” Melisa demanded.

“Would you settle down, you ankle biter!” the Sniper’s voice turned from the phone.

“I’m not an ankle biter!” Price proclaimed angrily.

“Don’t call Scout an ankle biter,” Engineer defended the boy.

“Hey shut up, Engie! I can defend myself!” Price declared, proudly.

Sniper’s voice returned to the phone with exasperated sighs, “Put-put Mel on the phone!”

“Fine, see if I ever stick up for you again,” the Engineer said, with what sounded like a roll of the eyes.

Maurizio rolled his eyes and chuckled. He might as well have a little fun with them. Why not?

“Sounds like you have your hands full over there,” he commented.

“You could say that,” the Sniper replied, “We’re looking for Mel. Where is she?”

“How’s the weather over there?” Maurizio forced himself not to smile. The Sniper would be able to hear a smile in his voice.

“Perfectly fucking foggy,” Sniper growled, “Where’s Melisa!”

Maurizio leaned forward and looked up at the sky, “It’s pretty clear skies over here…at least for the most part. Oh! It looks like it might start sprinkling here soon!”

“Where the hell are you?” Sniper roared over the phone.

“Calm down Sniper!” he heard the Engineer exclaim.

“What the hell is going on? Just hand her the phone already,” the Scout sitting next to him insisted. He shushed the youth and waved a dismissive hand at him. Scout barely responded to this.

“Phone! Give!” Melisa demanded.

“Where are you? And where is Melisa?” the Sniper demanded again.

“You ain’t getting anywhere like that,” the Engineer’s voice came closer to the receiver, “Here, lemme talk to him.”

Maurice suppressed a chuckle as he heard the Texan’s voice approach the phone. This should be good, he thought. He could go for an entertaining phone call, before handing it back over to the woman in question.

“Maurice?” the Engineer’s voice came over the phone hesitantly.

“Sí, amico?” he responded, with a coy smile.

“Where the hell are you, boy?” the Engineer asked.

Maurizio started laughing, “Oh please, as if you tried any different.”

“It is different,” the Engineer insisted, “We’re friends. That’s different.”

Maurizio chuckled at him, “That’s your game, is it?”

“For a friend? Please? Maurice? Let us speak to Melisa,” the Engineer pleaded.

Maurizio chuckled at him, “Alright. I’ll humor you.” He reached back to hand the phone to Melisa.

The woman took the phone with a frustrated grunt. She put the phone to her ear and spoke softly.

“Hello?” she asked, with a hopeful tone.

He could barely make out what they were saying on the other end. He could only sit and listen to Melisa talk to the phone in silence. They all listened, silently hearing her words, as they filled in the blanks.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was amazed that they were working together now. He was not sure why he found that somehow surprising. He and the RED Engineer used to be good friends, after all.

It felt really good to be hanging out again. Like old times, neither of them talked very much. They were both mostly listeners. Even if he did talk, Andrew was not sure what to say to the Engineer anyways. So he resigned himself to the same silence that the Engineer had.

Finally, they pulled up to a gas station in the fog of the night, so Engie could gas up his vehicle, “Don’t go far, Solly. I just gotta put some gas in ol’ Betsy here.”

Andrew nodded and he watched the Engineer leave. He hopped out of the truck to stretch his legs. It felt nice out this evening, like the kind of evening that would be nice for a walk. Hugh would like that, not too warm but not too cold. It was just right for the picky old Spy. He wondered if fog was a peeve of Spy’s though, or if it was considered romantic.

He strolled around the pumps, letting his legs get a feel for solid ground. It was nice to let his legs relax. The cool air was even a bit quaint.

A picture caught his eye and he approached the store door. There, hanging up on the glass by some tape, was the entire group of REDs. All eighteen men were there, each of them with some kind of evil grin. They were all organized by class and displayed like they were there to market something off to him.

“What the hell?” he muttered, turning his head a bit sideways. He found each person on the poster, like they were characters of a show.

The picture suddenly moved away as the door swung inward, “Solly? What are you doing?”

“I- you were- the door…” Andrew tried to make sense of what he wanted to say. There was no making sense of what he saw.

“Come on,” the Engineer took him by the arm, “We have to keep going.”

“Did you receive word from the others?” Andrew asked, hopeful that his Spy might have come searching for him.

“No, not now,” Engineer shook his head as he sent Andrew back into the cab of the truck.

“We should get back in contact with them somehow,” Andrew insisted, “Maybe go back to the base.”

“We’re not going back to the base,” the Engineer said, a bit tartly.

“Why not?” Andrew fussed.

“Because…” the Engineer gave him a sidelong glance, “We gotta move forward. You understand that, Soldier?”

“Nobody understands that like me!” Andrew declared with a pleased smile on his face.

“Right,” Engineer smiled back at him, “Of course you do.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn glared at the Medic who cleared his throat. The smaller of the two still hand his hand to his mouth when his eyes widened at the glare. He was not like the other Medic, who just had this commanding air of self-importance about him. He was almost timid.

The bigger Medic seemed to catch onto what he was thinking right then. He leaned forward, with a look of intrigue, “Are you worried, Herr Sniper?”

Sniper snarled at him, but there was no dissuading that man’s attitude. He was not afraid of Sniper, never dissuaded, never intimidated. In fact, he kind of scared the hair off of Sniper’s arms sometimes.

“Of course he is!” one of the two big Russians rumbled, “Is quietly fretting like little bird…wondering where mother hen is. Wait for little bird come give baby.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes, bub,” the annoying little Scout piped up.

Ever since the others caught up, it had just been one person after the other, trying to make awkward conversations. It had long since begun to frustrate Glenn. None of them could understand what he was going through at this time. Nobody, at least aside from his friend. But, the Spy was not around at this time, which was a shame because maybe he could have helped him deal with that Italian Spy.

“Oh she’s fine,” Medic rolled his eyes and gestured dismissively.

“Sniper doesn’t need to worry,” the Heavy agreed, “She is with two Spies. Good Spies.”

“But that…the one is a RED Spy, is he not?” Medic asked.

“Yes, but is on our side, I think,” Heavy argued.

“I wouldn’t trust him,” Medic said, thoughtfully.

“He sure is taking his damn time,” Sniper growled irritably.

“Be patient, they’ll be here,” Heavy insisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the past three chapters during a boring streak at work. Like, absolutely nothing to do, but I had to be there all day.  
> More fun to come.  
> This is fun for me anyways. Spies are turning out to be fun!  
> Ooh, and also that Engie. I know you guys were wondering about him.


	12. Where We Are Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spies get caught in a trap.  
> The lovely couple is reunited.  
> Soldier finally gets to drive while Engie takes a nice little nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering doing some spin offs with other characters in the future. But, after I have finished this story.

“Here we are,” Antoine said as he put the car in park.

“You sure?” Hugh took in the area with an eerie feeling in his spine. Everything here was overgrown and the place looked abandoned.

“I am,” Antoine nodded as he clambered out of the car.

He closed the door and proceeded quietly around the building. Hugh followed closely at his heels. He was wary of the building, though there seemed to be no signs of life around. That was, until he spotted a camera at the door.

“Here we are,” Antoine repeated, looking up at the camera. It clicked before the door suddenly opened.

“What is here, anyways?” Hugh asked, as they made their way down a dark hallway.

“Here? Here is a control hub,” Antoine explained briefly, “We can get footage from the base and see which way they initially went.”

“Is there audio?” he asked with concern.

“If they stated anything about where they were going, then we’ll find that footage here,” Antoine assured him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Song, song of the south,” Engineer was singing along to something on the radio, “Sweet potato pie and it- Oh Soldier!” He smiled at Andrew, upon seeing him wake up.

Andrew rubbed his eyes as he roused himself. He had not intended to doze off like this, though he had not thought they would be on the road for so long. Though, when he looked around, everything was dark and he was not sure where they were. All he could see around them were the lights of passing vehicles.

“You sleep well? Hope you didn’t get a crick in your neck,” the RED said, with a smile.

“Where are we?” Andrew muttered, barely getting a handle on where they were going. His mind was slow to wake up and figure out where he was and where he was going, before he realized that he did not know.

“We’re still…” Engineer hesitated with a look like he was pondering the question, “We’re still searching for Melisa.”

Andrew scrunched his brow and glanced out the window. There was not much to see in the darkness. The lights of passing vehicles did not exactly help him orientate his location. All he knew was that he was upright.

The Engineer pushed up his goggles, moving them onto his forehead. Andrew turned to look at him and was surprised to see a handsome face. He had the softest doe eyes Andrew had ever seen, which were only juxtaposed by the tan lines ringing his face where the goggles sat. Engineer rubbed his eyes sleepily, before he looked back at Andrew. He stared for an embarrassingly long time, so long that Andrew was surprised they did not hit anything.

“You seem tired, Engie,” Andrew noted.

“Yea,” the Engineer yawned again, trying to pull his knuckles away so he could focus on the road.

“You should get some sleep,” Andrew noted.

“Not much time for that, partner,” Engineer gave him a sleepy smile that was soon followed by another yawn.

“At this rate, you’re going to get us killed,” Andrew noted with a touch of distaste at being in the truck. He was sick of sitting here and it was wearing on his newfound headache. The sooner they got to a destination, the sooner he could get out of the damn truck. “Let me drive instead.”

“You drive?” the Engineer sounded surprised, though he was already considering it, based on the look of his eye, “Not sure that is such a good idea, partner.”

“Don’t partner me, unless we’re in this together, Engineer!” he barked.

The Texan let out a solemn sigh as he thought over the offer. It did not take him long, as he finally pulled over to a gas station, to clamber out of the truck. Andrew followed suit, walking around past him at the front grill. When he clambered into the truck, it was smaller than he remembered when he got out. He looked around as he searched for the levers to adjust the seat. It was a lot more complicated than the other trucks he had driven, and Engineer was apparently smaller than the other Engineers.

“On the other side, private,” Engineer chuckled sleepily. He yawned and nodded when Andrew finally managed to slide the seat back. “There ya go! You found it!” he cheered softly.

“Go to sleep son,” Andrew pushed the Engineer’s head towards the door, motioning for him to take a nap.

“Hold up, Solly,” Engineer pushed the hand away and pulled a large folded sheet of paper from the glove compartment, “I ain’t shown you the directions yet.”

“Directions?” Andrew parroted, confusedly.

“Here,” the Engineer unfolded it to show him the red squiggly line he had drawn. It seemed that he knew where he was going. “We’re right about here. But we want to get to here.” He dragged his fingertip across the map, right along the red line. “If we can get to here by morning,” he backtracked a bit, showing Andrew where he wanted to be by sunrise, “Then I reckon we’ll be making good timing.”

“What about the others?” Andrew asked, a frown furrowing his brow.

He felt concerned that none of them had been included in any of this. Surely they were wondering where the BLU Soldier and the RED Engineer were. They were after the same thing though, were they not? And now that he thought about it, how could the Engineer know precisely where Melisa would go? His eyes jumped to the man’s walkee talkee, primarily used on the battlefield to get a hold of other teammates, which was a contraption that Andrew had used before but was not familiar with its working mechanisms. It was unlikely that Engineer was unable to take it apart, modify it and improve it, then put it all back together.

That thought got him thinking a lot. He knew the Engineer was smart, so he had to know what he was doing. If he had the knowhow to transform that walkee talkee into something more, then perhaps he knew how to get in touch with Melisa. If the Engineer could not do it, who else could?

“So we’re going this way?” he drew his finger along the red line. Something did not feel right about it though.

“Yup!” the Engineer smiled with delight, “That’s where we’re going!”

Andrew frowned at the map. Something was not right about the travel route they were going to take. There was an obvious pass that could take them through this set of mountains under his thumb a lot quicker, yet the Engineer had drawn over several back roads. It seemed like an attempt to avoid the big highways and freeways.

“You sure you know where we are going?” Andrew asked, turning to the Engineer.

“Yes!” Engineer threw his hands up in exasperation, “Just follow the line drawn out on the map and we should be fine.”

As Andrew started the car, the Engineer settled in against the passenger side door. He paused, letting the vehicle idle a few moments as he thought. The RED was completely unconcerned, too tired to think. Perhaps he was too tired to realize that maybe they should try and go back to the base, where the others probably already regrouped. Even if Melisa was not there, their other teammates had to be there.

When he pulled out of the gas station, he hesitated to check on the Engineer. The man was out like a light, his cheek pressing into the knuckles of a fist braced with an elbow against the door, and snoring loudly. It was safe to say that he would not notice for a long time that they were going the wrong way. At least, he would not know until he woke up, rubbed his eyes and finally took a look at the map. Or maybe there would be familiar landmarks around them. He figured he could easily get away with this, so long as he kept going steady, while the Engineer was sleeping.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The unfamiliar stench of the place left a foul taste in Hugh’s mouth. He did not like this place. He was already wishing that he had stayed in the car, but he was already here, so there was not much reason to go back. Antoine would likely start asking questions otherwise.

“This is the main control for our sector,” Antoine explained, as they stepped into a large monitor room.

It mirrored the room inside of the base, but this was even bigger. It had various rotating chairs, many monitors – at least three or more per chair – and a giant white board space for writing. What had been written there was a mystery to Hugh, as the thing was just about as clean as the day it was mantled there. There were a few stains of green and blue that had been left there for too long, but they had no coherent meaning.

Antoine had stopped there in the middle. He let the cold emptiness of the room settle in, as his eyes scanned the room. Antoine seemed like a startled animal.

Hugh opened his mouth to speak, just as a loud slam announced the door closing behind him. He turned and darted to the door, hoping to pry it open. It was locked and shut tightly though. This room seemed to have an automated closing system for intrusions.

“There is no use in trying to open it,” Antoine stated simply, “It will stay locked until Pauling comes. We will have to call her through the emergency system.”

“I thought you knew this place,” Hugh said, with a hint of accusation on his tongue. He hated being drawn into traps.

“This room is usually filled with staff members,” Antoine explained, “Where are they? And who let us in?”

Hugh hesitated, unsure of how to answer those questions. He knew nothing about how Mann Co ran things anymore. So much had been kept from him that he did not even know about these buildings that monitored the base from afar. Now he was not sure whether to trust Antoine’s dissention to the lock, or if he should attempt to open it anyways.

“If you panic, this will only be much more difficult,” Antoine stated, as he picked up a bright red phone from its receiver.

“There is no panic,” Hugh responded, “I’m simply debating whether to attempt to fix this situation anyways, or not.”

Antoine shook his head at the proposal, “You won’t get far. I have tried before. Those locks are meant to stay that way until the power comes back and the system is restored to order.”

“And how do you intend to call Pauling?” he asked, watching as Antoine dialed on the phone, “If the power is out, there will be no phones working.”

“The emergency calling system is kept on its own power grid,” Antoine explained, waiting as the phone rang loudly. The faint echo of the ring filled the room, letting everyone know that it was a very loud ringer. “One that Spies cannot typically reach without weeks of digging and searching for it.”

“Sounds like a lot of hassle,” Hugh noted.

“From testing the theory of it working myself, I can tell you that it is a deterrent enough,” Antoine nodded in reply.

“Well then,” Hugh paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Perhaps we can spend this precious time going over how RED managed to get involved in all of this.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Melisa peered out of the window, both surprised and delighted at seeing the Engineer’s truck pulling up. She could not see Glenn just yet, but she was sure that he was in there somewhere. Not wanting to wait much longer, she clambered out of the backseat and toddled out into the open, where she could easily be seen.

She immediately found hands on her person, which caused her to panic. She let out a high pitched howl of surprise as a Spy dragged her back to the car. She heard panicked foreign languages being exchanged, before she fell back and got a full view of the RED Spy and the BLU Spy above her.

She pulled herself to her feet, as she heard the other vehicle’s doors opening. She looked to the Spies and started yelling at them. They tried to say apologies, but she would not hear excuses for throwing a pregnant woman around. She was not sure what man actually thought it was okay to manhandle a woman carrying such fragile cargo.

“Melisa!” Glenn’s voice tore her attention away from them and towards him. She rushed towards him, ignoring the Spies’ protests. She flung her arms around him, finally feeling safe in the warmth of his arms. “Dear Lord, Melisa,” he breathed in her ear, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” she whimpered through a lump that formed in her throat. She had been so scared on her own, and she was tired of being scared.

“Good, we’ve gotten done with the reuniting,” she heard the BLU Spy speak up. He sounded a little irritated as he lit a cigarette, “Now we need to get moving.”

“We’re missing a man, lad,” one of the Demos spoke up. She could not be sure which one was which, in spite of her best efforts to get to know them on a personal level.

“We’re missing quite a few men,” the RED Spy offered.

She looked around as several cars pulled up. The RED team suddenly joined them out of the blue. How that happened was beyond her. Why they were helping the BLU team, people they had always been against, was also beyond her.

She pondered this for a while, feeling at a loss for words at seeing thirty two men gathered to guard her. It was quite possible that Saxton Hale had gone to them offering to pay them to guard her. But, then there was this nagging curiosity that made her wonder if they felt a sense of justice and pride. As if seeing a woman in the confines of their militant base made them feel protective of her, and in doing such they sought out justice.

It felt amazing to think that way about them. She had been watching eighteen of them for nearly two decades now. She was in love with one of them, who came to live with her on the weekends, both to get away from the lifestyle of those men, and to escape into her loving arms. And to think that after years of being brutal, cruel and unforgiving people, they would change their ways, even for a minute, under the momentary notion that a woman or child required their assistance. That was amazing to think about, but not entirely impossible.

Sure, they were killers. Sure, they had been trained (some of them their whole lives) to murder and stab people in the backs. Some of them were probably even wanted in multiple countries, until those countries presumed they were dead. Even despite all of that Melisa thought there was a chance they could be better than that. They were more than mercenaries, they were greater than most men, so why not be even greater?

“Mel, you okay?” Glenn’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Yea, I am okay,” she nodded, with a sheepish grin, “Just overwhelmed by…people.”

“Good,” he sighed in relief at her response, then looked around momentarily, “Where’s Soldier?”

“Andrew? I…he jumped out of the car,” she told him. She admittedly felt guilty, realizing that she had forgotten all about the man who had bought them time to get away from the RED Engineer.”

That was when a thought struck her. Since the Soldier jumped from the car, they had been discussing anything but him. Ever since that had happened, nobody had spared a thought for what kind of injuries the Soldier obtained from the fall. It had been obvious that the Engineer had taken the distraction, much to her confusion, but there was no telling what had happened to the Soldier after that.

“He what?!” Glenn exclaimed, in that way that only Glenn could. There was this perpetual look of confusion, like it had overwhelmed and consumed him for all eternity. Melisa wished she could have a picture of it to hang on her wall, of all the expressions he ever made.

She put a hand to her mouth, horrified at her realization. What had she done? She had done absolutely nothing, and she was not at fault for anything that happened to him, but she still felt very guilty. Having done nothing, not having at least worried about his wellbeing, made her feel as guilty as if she had pushed him out of the vehicle herself.

Glenn shook the confusion from his face, “What happened to him? Is he alright? What did you do with him?”

She opened and shut her mouth, unsure of what to say or how to say it. She was at a complete and utter loss for how to tell him she had abandoned him the moment he jumped. She wanted to just start apologizing, bar all explanations?”

“Soldier knew Dooley would get distracted with him,” the RED Spy stepped in to explain for her. A bit of relief swept over her at that. “The idiot was shooting at my car, and when Soldier jumped ship, we were able to get away. Unfortunately that means that he got a hold of the Soldier, and we do not know where they have gone or what they have done.”

“Well…shit,” Glenn grabbed his hat off his head and flung it to the dirt.

“I…um…” Melisa could feel beads of cold sweat forming on the back of her neck. She looked at the hat on the ground with confusion and disgust that he had thrown his favorite hat into the dirt. “Glenn, pick that up. That’s your favorite hat! Don’t ruin it! You of all people do _not_ come across favorite hats often!”

“Gotta go fetch the damn Soldier, woman! I’ll throw my hat if I like!” he growled as he picked up the hat anyways. He treasured that hat, as Melisa knew well it was the last nice thing he had from his adoptive parents.

“And you’re going to regret throwing that hat around later,” Melisa reminded him.

“Fine fine,” he brushed the dirt off and placed it back on his head.

“Let’s go find the Soldier,” she nodded to him, and he responded in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mischief and lies are coming.  
> 5,000 points to Griffindoor for whoever recognizes that song Engie was singing along to!
> 
> Again...I need to learn to stop writing when I'm so dog tired. My writing gets so basic. Meanwhile, writing is slow. Most of my time is at work and work computers are all Japanese, so is a bit difficult to write. Certain characters are not placed in the same positions so I cannot write as smoothly.
> 
> Also, I don't know if I have said this before, but I love your comments! I try to comment on each one, just to show that I do read them. They are encouraging, but moreover give me insight to what a reader is interested in with a story. So, sometimes you guys are conducting me on what to focus on (or explain) and other times I just get excited because we've got the same idea about the chapter.


	13. Unspoken Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer reveals his plans to Soldier, only to find that he knew all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire chapter at work. I am so freaking bored!

The rumbling of the truck was a peaceful and welcoming feeling. Its engine’s soft purr was gentle on the ears and the movement was relaxing. Engineer could stay asleep here, even with his head pressed against hard glass. It was an uncomfortable position, but in the cradle of his truck’s passenger seat, he could handle twelve hours of sleep here, if he could afford it.

He could not afford the time though. He quickly rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision and get a handle on where they were. He was not familiar with the area they were supposed to be in by morning, but he was pretty sure it was supposed to be a desert. When he looked around the windows though, he found that they were driving along mountain roads, still surrounded by pines. Those pines made him sick in a sense.

“Soldier, where are we?” he asked, looking for a road sign. He reached for the map but found it missing, “Solly, where’s the map?”

“Where we are going, we do not need maps!” the Soldier announced proudly.

Engineer sighed, seeing that proud American spirit conjoining with his ever-present inability to connect factors of reality. He loved that hard-headed spirit the Soldier had, but there was always that backslide from it, with the stupid decisions. Not that he had bad intentions. On the contrary, Solly would apologize when he did something wrong. He was good about admitting his wrongdoings.

“Yes we do!” Engineer told him firmly, “Where’s the map, Soldier?”

“I threw it out the window,” Solly pointed to the window.

“You what?!” Dooley exclaimed. An apology was not going to fix this one. “Solly, we needed that map!”

“I don’t need a map!” Solly turned his big toothy grin to the Engineer, “I’ve got this!” He pointed to his head, where his helmet usually sat. Since he was driving, he had left the helmet laying on the dashboard, where it took up residence with some of Dooley’s notes.

“Solly no!” Dooley exclaimed.

“This Soldier knows his way home!” the Soldier announced proudly.

Dooley rubbed his hands over his face, “Solly, we ain’t going back.”

“What’s that?” Solly turned curious eyes to him. He kept jumping between the road and Dooley, as if unused to driving and feeling paranoid about having an accident.

Dooley sighed and shook his head. He should have thought more about his words. The Soldier was a bit slow in the head, but not stupid. He was not keen on picking up on clues, but he could follow a conversation just fine. Dooley himself felt like he was drunk, his mind was so lost in exhaustion. It just wanted him to go back to sleep and stay there.

“I had the map sending us towards Arizona,” he explained.

“And no intentions of going back,” the Soldier had a straight face as he stared out the windshield at the road ahead.

“No sir,” the Engineer admitted, trying to tear his eyes away from the Soldier. He knew the Soldier was going to react to this in some way, and it was not going to be positive.

“And you were not intending to find Melisa?” the Soldier went on.

“I suppose I was not,” he nodded, finding his heart beating too fast for him to keep up. He felt like he needed a doctor.

The Soldier took a deep breath. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating what to say. Based on his reaction so far, Dooley figured that the Soldier was getting ready to have a somber and frustrated reaction, much quieter than his loud, obnoxious and angry outbursts. He should be thankful as it meant he was not about to be at the receiving end of a beating, but somehow this alternative seemed far worse.

He wanted to ask for the beating, when Soldier started to speak, “I knew this was what you were doing. But I don’t understand why.”

This definitely hurt more. He would have rather taken a beating. The pain in those words had been so real; it was a pain mixed with confusion that was unique to the Soldier. Perhaps he could still get away from this by throwing himself out of the truck like Solly had.

Nah, he was too smart for that. He knew better than to do that. He knew he would stay put right there and twiddle his thumbs while under the pressure of Solly’s words. What a sad little existence to be so easily cowed by some fool hardy Soldier, he thought.

“You don’t understand what’s going on around you,” Dooley explained, trying to be slow and gentle about it. He had to take the bandage off carefully.

“That does not give you the liberty to fool me, Engie,” Solly scorned him, “That gives nobody the liberty to pull wool over my eyes.”

“It’s not like that,” Dooley insisted.

“Seems a whole awful lot like that,” Solly argued.

“Sol, you know I wouldn’t do you like that,” the Engineer protested, “I swear, if you knew what I knew pal, you would do the same!”

“I can’t believe you, Engie,” Solly shook his head.

He immediately tried to rebut, “No! See here, I am not trying to demean you. I am trying to help you! You don’t even know about what they’re doing around you!*

Solly sighed, “I don’t want your excuses.”

“Hold on partner! I’m trying to help!” the Engineer protested with frustration building up in his throat.

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you make excuses for what you did!” Solly argued.

“It ain’t that bad! I was just tryin’a get you out of harm’s way for once!” the Engineer declared, “You’re always in danger, even when you do not even know it! I just…for once, I want to be the one that keeps you safe! And throwing yourself outta the car? You were right hurting for death, if’n I hadn’t had my kit in the back of my truck.”

The Soldier had the deepest of frowns pulling at his face, “I don’t need babysitting, Engie. I don’t need coddling.”

He tried to defend his actions, “I know you don’t, but you-”

“I was in the war back before you were speaking, son,” Solly growled this time, “I took care of myself and my fellow men! I do not need you turning around and making me out to be some old codger who cannot fend for himself!”

“Shit Solly,” Dooley groaned against the growing pain of an incoming headache, “I just wanted to-”

“No I ain’t got PHDs or quick wits, but I ain’t a stupid man,” Solly interrupted, “And you wouldn’t understand it none, as you’ve never experienced the aftermath of war!”

“Solly! This ain’t about all that! I don’t think you’re stupid!” Dooley pleaded with him.

Soldier’s voice rose higher, “And you ain’t never had your brains shook about, your guts falling out, and a dying man on your back, with no medic around to speak of! Forget respawn! Unthinkable!”

Engineer raised his voice to the highest point it would go, “You don’t understand! It was never about you being stupid! It’s not been about you being lost in your blackouts! I love you, Solly! I love you and I don’t want you hurt!”

The Soldier’s jaw clicked shut before he muttered, “I know you do.”

Dooley felt tears well up in his eyes, “I don’t care if you do not feel that way about me. I do not care if you want to remain distant from me. I do not even care if you are disgusted by me for liking men! I just…I need to love you and I can’t not. And I cannot see you hurt.”

“I…I know…” the Soldier’s muttering went on.

“Then why won’t you respond?!” Dooley raised his voice, “Yell at me! Get angry at me! Do something!”

“What do you want me to do?” Solly gave him a rather helpless look, “You _want_ me to yell at you?”

“I want you to do _something_!” Dooley exclaimed, “Say something!” 

“You want me to say what? What do you want me to say?” Solly asked, disgruntled at the Engineer’s pressing.

“Anything! Please!” he was on the edge, half wanting to let the tears flow, but still holding them back.

“Anything,” the Soldier stated.

Dooley was silent for a minute, realizing that this was all the Soldier was going to say. He felt stunned at the simple yet witty response. Then he was angry, clenching his fists and biting down on nothing but his teeth until they ground together. He held his fury together though, not wanting to lash out at the Soldier needlessly.

When he managed to gather enough self-control to speak, he spoke slowly, “Solly, could you take this serious? Could you take _me_ seriously?”

“I am trying, but you are not giving me any help here,” the Soldier stated.

Dooley sighed with a feeling of despair, “I’d settle for hearing you admit that you are disgusted with me.”

His heart sank but it was true. He had to hear it. He was sure that the man hid his disgust out of the good nature of his heart and the matter that they were already friends.

“But…I’m not,” Solly said, with a tone like he was confused.

“Solly, I like men,” he explained carefully, “I guess in scientific terms, you would call me a homosexual. But, I am specifically in love with you. I am specifically attracted to you. You already told me no before, you don’t have to let me down easy.”

“I let you down easy as I could because you are my friend,” Solly paused as he carefully made the next turn, “But, I am not going to lie to you, just so you can hear something.”

“But, why?” Dooley pleaded, “If you aren’t disgusted by me, then what?”

“You’re my friend, that’s where I draw the line,” Solly explained simply, “I do not have to be disgusted by you. I don’t have to be angry with you. I hold nothing negative towards you for feeling things for me, son. In fact, I’m flattered.”

That last part got Dooley. It made his heart flutter so hard that he thought he was having a heart attack for a moment. His face lit up with red and he felt his heart rate rising higher and higher.

“But, fact of the matter is son, I ain’t into you like you are into me,” Solly added.

“I know, I know,” Dooley sighed, “I just…I just need you to acknowledge that I love you. You don’t…have to do anything with it. Just know that I care…a whole damn lot.”

There was a long silence. It became drawn out between them as they stared at the road ahead, each man stuck in his own thoughts. Dooley wondered just what was on the other man’s mind though.

The Soldier did seem to have a good aim for home, in spite of lack of a map or ascertainment of directions. He was not the best driver though, acting rather hesitant and awkward behind the wheel. But, he did seem to understand which way led him back to the base, or home as he called it.

“Engie?” Soldier broke the silence.

“Yea?” Dooley bit back a tear. He fought with the tears, wrangling them into submission so he could keep a fairly straight face.

He had been wrangling with his feelings for a long time. He could deal with the unrequited part of this whole ordeal, but he could not deal with never knowing what the Soldier thought of him. He had debated with himself, becoming firmly certain that he did not want to know what the Soldier thought of him. What if he really did think some of those nasty things about him? But, there was always that friendly attitude and that dorky smile that drew him back in with the memory that Solly rarely thought badly about anyone. Even a RED, Soldier’s current enemy team, could be considered a welcome pal.

Soldier broke the silence with a small sigh. It was not a very obvious sigh, but between the silence and Dooley’s anxious thoughts, he could not help but become startled. Each moment that crept by without an answer just felt so slow and painful for him.

“I like you, like a brother likes his brother,” Soldier stated.

Dooley let that sink in. It was something of a relief, though it distanced the Soldier from him in the romantic sense. But he already knew that the Soldier did not want him, didn’t he? He just needed clarification as to whether there was anything else between them.

“I appreciate that, Solly,” Dooley sighed.

The Soldier grunted, before returning his attention to the road ahead. Dooley resigned himself to a sigh. He looked out the windshield, realizing that he would have to also resign himself to returning to base with Soldier. He had been planning on running away, leaving behind Mann Co. There went all of his plans to keep Solly from getting hurt or toyed with ever again, as the man would probably never trust him again.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Antoine said, as he listened to the speaker to whom he was inquiring.

Hugh listened intently while he searched the room. Surely there was something that could help them. There was likely an emergency switch somewhere, or perhaps somebody had a key. If nothing else, he might be able to figure out more than Mann Co wanted him to know, and that was an idea he liked a lot.

“Slow down, what?” Antoine exclaimed, “What’s this about Hale? What do you mean?”

Hugh rose from the desk he had been investigating. He was very curious about what it was that the person on the other end of the line could be telling him. Very likely they were trying to give some complicated excuse as to why they had to sit there for the next several hours – maybe more – while they sent out somebody to release them from the monitor room.

“No I heard you,” Antoine growled, “I just don’t believe you. Saxton Hale died in 1988. Don’t try to fool me with this bullshit.”

That piqued more than Hugh’s interest at that. That piqued his worry. Why would they bring up a dead man? And since when was Saxton Hale dead? Sure, they had all assumed the man was probably dead, but it was just as likely that he survived the way Miss Pauling had survived over the past decades. She managed to keep her looks, no less.

“And you expect me to pick the lock or something?” Antoine growled into the receiver, “Right…right…right…” He was parroting himself as he listened to the speaker.

Hugh moved quietly as he stepped around the desk. He moved towards Antoine, glad that the man’s back was towards him. He did not need him to see how curious he was, even if he knew that any Spy would be intrigued by the topic of conversation.

“Very well,” Antoine nodded, “I’ll arrange it myself. Don’t bother.”

He put the phone down and turned abruptly to face Hugh. The two stood there like that, both of them poised with knowing looks about them. Neither was surprised. Neither was offended. But Hugh was not prepared for the next thing to happen.

“Kill me,” Antoine stated.

“What?” Hugh was surprised. Out of all of the times during their employment with Mann Co, this was the most surprising time of any that the RED Spy had requested the BLU to kill him.

“Kill me,” Antoine switched to French, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“A bit drastic a measure to take in reaction to such a situation,” Hugh noted, “Has your training escaped you, that you would forget you are an agent?”

“No,” Antoine chuckled, “I simply require assistance going to headquarters.”

“You realize, within this building, we are out of range of the respawn, yes?” Hugh asked.

The RED Spy chuckled, shaking his head, “The respawn of our base, yes. But the Global Respawn System is something unique in its own right. I’ll be put back together within ten hours, and then I will send somebody here for you. Probably the Demoman, he knows this place well enough. His expertise may very well help you get out without having to wait for a Pauling assistant.”

“And what of you?” Hugh asked, discerning the fact that there was a bigger respawn system that did reach this place, and it probably had the RED Spy’s body scanned into it.

“I have a Miss Pauling to find,” Antoine noted.

“Miss Pauling?” Hugh felt like a child asking twenty questions.

“Yes, she is apparently missing,” Antoine shrugged, “And apparently twenty other Spies are failing to find her, two of which have turned up permanently dead.”

“If agents are turning up permanently dead, then why would you suggest your own death?” Hugh asked.

Antoine gave a small laugh at that, “Not every Spy used in search of Pauling is a Spy who knows! Mann Co utilizes who they can, and if they die outside of respawn’s territory, well too bad. Such is life, yes?”

Hugh nodded slowly, taking in the idea. It was not news to him that the company did not hold any bounds to their lives. There was nothing important about them as living breathing people. They were just pawns and cards to be thrown about as the game persisted.

“Very well,” Hugh finally nodded, “I will kill you.”

There was relief about the RED Spy, as if he had thought the BLU would deny him the death. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hugh cut him off with a wave of his hand. He was not done, not just yet.

“First, tell me about the bullshit regarding Saxton Hale,” he demanded, pulling out his butterfly knife, “Then I will sever your spinal cord.”

Antoine nodded in ascent. He did not have much choice, unless he could kill himself. That had mostly been a bluff, relying on the RED Spy’s apparent relief at hearing him say that he would. He now knew that the other Spy did not bring gun with him, or perhaps he had a gun with a dry clip.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn gnawed at his teeth, clenching and grinding them despite every time Melisa poked at him and reminded him to stop. He was too frustrated to care what happened to his teeth. He had enough money to go get new teeth put in his mouth. He was growing impatient with the Spies, both of them unique creatures who had spent too much time in Mexico. It had not affected them from the language or the culture, rather they had been around each other for far too long.

“If they took this route, then it is very likely that the Engineer took him to a hospital,” the BLU was explaining.

“How would he even know that there was a hospital there?” the RED scoffed.

“Because he keeps a map in his truck,” the BLU growled, “You would know that if you did your job.”

“Oh shut up,” the RED Spy growled, “That still does not take into account that he may have just gone back to base. _And_ it does not explain why he was shooting at my car in the first place!”

“No idea,” the BLU Spy stated, in the most monotone voice Glenn had ever heard. The longer this went on, the more he grew irritated. “Besides, it is likely you pissed him off without you knowing about it.”

“Not likely,” the RED Spy scoffed.

“You think the Engineer…would have…uh…you know…” one of the Scouts made a slicing motion before his throat. He had this grave look of concern about him that Glenn had never seen on the boy, or at least he thought he had not. Perhaps it had been since the kid’s mother got sick and died. “Cause I mean…I…” the youth could not think of anything else to say. There were no excuses left in him, with no pairings of over explanations.

“Also unlikely,” the BLU Spy stated.

The RED Spy nodded in agreement, “Dooley would never do that.”

“Who’s to say he wouldn’t?” Glenn asked, growing more and more frustrated with these Spies.

“Trust me,” the BLU Spy stated firmly, “Dooley would not dare lay a harmful hand on that Soldier.”

The RED Spy continued nodding in agreement, “Of all the things he might do…the Soldier won’t die. Do not worry, amico. Andrew is still alive.”

“Wait…his name is Andrew?” that piqued the Scout’s interest.

“Sí,” the RED Spy nodded.

“He never told me that! How do you know that?” the youth exclaimed, both alarmed and frustrated. Glenn never realized the kid cared so much about the Soldier – whether that was revealing of the kid’s true nature or not was something that he did not want think about or know.

“I am a Spy, we know things,” the RED Spy smirked, “And besides, Melisa has been calling him by his name.”

Melisa gave Glenn a panicked and apologetic look, “Oops.”

“It’s fine,” Glenn said softly, reaching over to pat her arm. So many mercenaries had been using names anyways, and they had all learned that the Sniper’s name was Glenn.

“The important thing is that the BLU Soldier is not dead,” the BLU Spy stated.

“But we still hafta find him!” one of the BLU Demos stepped up. He clapped Glenn on the shoulder. “We hafta find out what the other Spies have found too,” he went on.

“What do you reckon?” the other Demoman stepped forward.

“I reckon we’re way too far off course to even know where those fuckers would be!” the Boston Scout exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Drake, we have to think positively!” the RED Spy put an arm around the Scout’s shoulders.

Glenn did not miss the BLU Spy’s reaction to that. It was a surprising expression of disgust and frustration. Glenn must have had quite an expression on his face, because the Spy immediately turned a glaring eye to him.

“We should all assume the best! Hope for the best! This will turn out alright soon, I think,” the RED Spy assured them.

“Yea! What he said!” the Scout named Drake said, with a smile of newfound hope.

Glenn sighed with irritation, “That does not settle what we should do next.”

“Explore all the options?” the older of the BLU Demos offered.

“Splitting up would make a difference,” the other BLU Demo offered.

“If we are going to find a Soldier, then you must think like a Soldier!” one of the RED Soldiers stepped forward to yell, quite loudly.

Glenn flinched away, offended by the loud noise. Melisa’s hands grabbed his elbow, but surprisingly it was not to comfort him, but rather to comfort herself. He turned and wrapped an arm around her, offering his body for clinging.

“And a rag tag bunch of civilians like yourselves would not fathom how a Soldier thinks!” the soldier went on loudly.

“He was travelling with the RED Engie though,” Drake spoke up.

Everybody was silent for a few moments. Even the Soldier was quiet for a little while.

“Then you idiots should be thinking like an Engineer!” the Soldier finally broke the silence. He reached over to grab the other RED Engineer, who barely flinched at being flung around.

Glenn settled back, pulling Melisa close. She cowered from the offending noise, using him as a comforting shield, even though he was not shielding her from anything. He kept his arm around her, comforted by her presence, if nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love seeing your comments! It's so cool to see that you guys are right along with me on the excitement of what is going to happen next, even if you can guess it.
> 
> Plot reveal: I am legitimately lost right now. I swear the characters are telling me this will make sense later, but it is starting to make less and less sense to me all the time. Welp...they do say that even the best laid plans can fall apart. Maybe this one will be one big fun bang.
> 
> That said, we will see together where this goes.


	14. Whoops, Did not Think That Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mercenaries do/say some things they did not think through.  
> Please notice that I have added a tag. "Main Character Death" because somebody is going to die. I will not reveal who, but I know some people are sensitive to topics of death, even though this IS a fanfic about a violent video game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they say, even the best laid plans fall apart. Though I think this one is starting to make sense.

It was the early morning when the sound of a single truck rolled up to the base. After a long night of searching, all of the mercenaries had returned to their respective beds for sleep. Glenn barely pulled himself off of the bed, too comfortable next to Melisa, to check and see who it was.

It was a relief to see that it was the RED Engineer and the BLU Soldier. Whatever escapade they had returned from, he had no idea. All he knew was that they were back and he was going to kick the BLU Soldier for running off.

Both new arrivals were shocked when Glenn’s boot landed into the Soldier’s hip. The Soldier gave an outcry like he had been shot. The Engineer gave out a surprised gasp and rushed to grab the Soldier as he dropped to his knees. Both men gave a complete overreaction to the attack.

“The hell are you thinking, BLU?!” the Engineer exclaimed, as he tried to pull the Soldier to his feet.

The Soldier tried to protest, pushing the man away. He did not want to get up, rather he seemed to want to get down. The Sniper stepped in and pulled the Engineer away from him. Before he even realized what was happening, the Engineer started swinging fists.

He was tasting blood and the Engineer’s head was under his arm, so he could wail on him, when Melisa came out of the camper. “Glenn!” she gasped, “Andrew? What’s going on? Stop!”

She rushed to the Soldier’s aid, while the Sniper pushed the Engineer away from himself. He rubbed his lower jaw where he had taken a strong wallop, before he turned to Melisa and the Soldier. He did not come down to their levels, remaining up over the Soldier’s head as he folded his arms. He wanted to look like he was mad as hell.

“The hell were you thinking running off like that?!” Sniper exclaimed, “And throwing yourself out a car? A moving car?! Are you fucking joking?”

“Leave him alone, stretch,” the Engineer caught his second wind, “Ain’t done nothing to ya.”

“Keep your damn red nose outta this, Engineer!” the Sniper snapped at him.

The muscles around his goggles tightened as the man’s frown sank with a glare, “I would watch my tongue if I were you, partner.”

“Don’t partner me, wanker,” Sniper growled. He was growing more and more irritated at the moment, maybe just from seeing the red uniform the man was wearing. “I’ll send you back down to the country you crawled out of in a body bag, if you keep this shit up!”

The Engineer spat a stream of spit across the dirt, “Let’s see you try.”

“Glenn!” Melisa exclaimed.

“I’ll cut you a new one,” the Sniper lowered his voice to a deadly growled. His fingers were itching for a blade of some sort.

“I got my turrets in the back of the truck,” the Engineer snickered, “Let’s see you get past those!”

“You ain’t nothing but a short stack of bone marrow and fat, without your metal machines,” Glenn growled.

“Glenn! Enough!” Melisa raised her voice.

Sniper finally snapped his attention around to her. She gave him an angry look, her hands still trying to tend to the Soldier. She was trying to pull him up off of the ground, but the Soldier just wanted to stay down. That was weird, given the man was usually the sort to yell at people to get up off of the ground and stop dying.

“You two, stop it!” Melisa spat.

Her venomous hiss made Glenn wince and turn away from the Engineer. He did not need to be told twice to stop, not by Melisa, or at least he thought not. An ironic thought given she had to tell him twice to stop.

“Hell, I ain’t too good with greetings,” the Engineer turned to Melisa, but he had a wary eye on the Sniper, “But I suppose you can call me Dooley.”

“Melisa,” she nodded to him curtly. At least she understood that he was the enemy in a sense.

“Sorry about earlier,” the Engineer rubbed the back of his neck, with a nervous chuckle.

“Yea…sorry for? What? Shooting at us in the car?” Melisa glared up at him, “Encouraging Soldier to leap out of the car?”

“I did _not_ encourage that! I would never encourage that!” Dooley exclaimed, waving his hands in the air, defensively.

The Soldier suddenly regained his composition and rose to his feet, bringing himself to full height. For a moment he acknowledged the Sniper with a nod. That was all he needed to do. Then, he turned to the RED Engineer, as if they had not spent the day in the vehicle together. He seemed like he was looking at the Texan for the first time all day.

“Why _did_ you shoot at Maurice’s car?” the Soldier asked.

The Sniper rolled his eyes. Leave it to the Soldier to overlook details like that when he could have been questioning them earlier. He did not ask questions, not like somebody else would have. That whole ride back to the base would have been an interrogation, especially if a Spy had gotten his hands on the Engineer.

The Sniper took in the scene like a bystander. He was off to one side, separate from both of the other parties. Slightly to his right was the Engineer, looking sheepish and nervous, with red on his face – which was hard to say in the poor light that was barely returning to the world. Slightly to his left were the Soldier and Melisa, both of them teamed up against the Engineer, shoulders facing him squarely. Melisa had her fists on her hips, but the Soldier had his arms crossed over his chest.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh realized too late why he should have been the one in a hurry. Sitting there, locked _inside_ of a control room full of bountiful information on himself and his coworkers – as well as his enemies – he realized that he probably looked foolish. Antoine’s body had yet to dissipate, making him feel even more foolish for not following his instincts.

 

_30 minutes ago…_

“You want an explanation on my behalf?” Antoine gave him a somber look. It almost looked sad, as if he was about to give some grave backstory that Hugh did not want to sit there and listen to.

“I just want to know how RED got tangled with BLU in regards to protecting Melisa,” Hugh explained.

“Well, it was just a few of us at first,” Antoine explained with a shrug. He was jumping right into it. At least he was not holding back, unless he was making things up on the spot, though Hugh did not know why he would do that at this point. “Maurice was first to jump right in. He takes very well to your…cohorts.”

Hugh narrowed his eyes, “My cohorts?”

“Yes,” Antoine cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Regarding…?” Antoine started tapping a foot on the floor. Who was he talking about? Which of the BLUs were in cahoots with the RED Spy?

“You know who I’m talking about,” Antoine growled with frustration. He paused to pull a cigarette out of his suit, placing it between his lips. “I should not have to say it for you to know. I know that you know.”

Hugh suppressed the burning rage as a glimmer of thoughts about Andrew came back to him. He pushed them down, not wanting to tangle emotion into all of this. Still, his doubts and confusions resurfaced as he remembered the night the RED Spy had been in Andrew’s bedroom.

It had been the night they were finally reunited. It was when Andrew finally let him in. It was when he finally started to forgive him for being absent upon Andrew’s return. They were not back to the way things were, but it had been the start. The RED Spy had been there, and as Hugh remembered, he had said something to Andrew about _his_ BLU Spy.

Antoine sighed with annoyance, “The other BLU Spy! Réne! The idiot with the idea in his head that he is some kind of natural at spy work.”

Hugh relaxed at hearing that. He was not talking about Andrew at all. He was talking about that obvious relationship that somehow went over the heads of every heterosexual man at both bases. Such stupidity amongst men of war, men who were supposed to have better heads on their shoulders than the average man. Of course, neither of the Spies had been very good about hiding their little relationship. Shortly after arriving, it had been obvious that they were broken, but who broke up with who remained to be seen, and the two had spats. They made a team of a passionate moron and a dissonant idiot.

“Clarification, my friend,” Hugh assured him. His gloved them started to stroke the sharp edge of his knife, familiar with its slick curve.

Antoine shook his head at him, “Anyways, Maurice was there first. I joined them when I realized what was going on. Pauling later sent me contact about something going on, but she was not specific. She even brought up the Administrator.”

“If we have the Administration, is the Administrator not dead?” Hugh asked.

“No, actually she is not,” Antoine assured him, “To the best of my knowledge she is alive, in retirement. Probably drinking mojitos in Maui. The woman had high tastes, but likely has not gone far. Whatever the case, I figured joining in the efforts to guard the Sniper’s girlfriend was a better use of my time than a wild goose chase. With what little information I had, there was nothing I could investigate on behalf of Pauling’s message.”

“What about the rest of the team?” he inquired, “Are they aware as well.”

“I have no idea,” Antoine admitted with a shrug, “They are all idiots. And I do not waste much time on them unless I have to.”

“Why waste your time at Mann Co at all, when you could be living off of your savings?” Hugh offered, “You have known about their workings for how long now? That is enough to have saved a fortune. By now, you could be anywhere, and with your training and skill, you would be unfindable.”

Antoine smirked, “I am flattered, my friend. But, old times aside, there is not much in my training to save me. This is a new time, a new era. Surviving outside of the bubble of Mann Co Productions’ little world they have established is beyond possibility for men of our era. We are outdated and cast aside, so to speak. Men who look like us, are not of our era either; that can easily be seen in those men who have just arrived from Mexico.”

Hugh nodded in agreement, “Indeed.”

“Blending in is not so simple anymore,” Antoine explained, “There is more work than ever to obtain a false passport and paperwork. There are machines that scan your fingerprints, your blood type, your facial features, and more. There are cameras that can attempt to identify you through the smallest features, enough of which is shown through a balaclava.”

“Not much help there, I see,” Hugh sighed at that thought. There really was no hope for himself outside of Mann Co, if it was really all that bad.

“Moving out of Mann Co would require Mann Co’s assistance,” Antoine shrugged, “Other than that…” His eyes suddenly dropped.

“Other than that?” Hugh pressed.

“Other than that,” Antoine finally resumed, “I still have Drake.”

“You have barely ever had Drake,” Hugh noted irritably. He thought back on all of the times the BLU Scout had ragged on the RED Spy, loathing him with all of his mind and body.

There really was no salvageable relationship there. Not that Hugh had ever been of any help. He had forgotten about the RED’s identity as Antoine, as the other had probably done the same about him, thinking of him as the enemy primarily. He never stopped the BLU Scout from ragging on the father, whom he did not know was his father, and he sometimes encouraged the behavior. What better way to spurn a better fight out of a youthful man than to dig into his emotional core?

“I know,” Antoine sighed, a look of pained regret on his face. That look made Hugh feel regret, just for the fact that they were once friends. “Still, I knew I would not know him by the time I returned to the states,” he explained, “I knew my son would not be a boy. But, he is still mine. And he was one of her favorites.”

Hugh was silent for a minute. He did not need clarification on who that _**her**_ was. She had been wept over in passing by the Scout, who had made it very clear to every single mercenary at BLU that she was very special to him as his mother. And all of them eventually had to try and show some form of support for the man turned angsty tween.

“No point lingering on old memories,” Antoine sighed, breaking the silence, “The longer we are here, the longer it takes before help arrives.”

Hugh pursed his lips as he flipped his knife in and out of his palm. It felt so relaxed, so cool against the glove. The familiarity of it made him relax.

“Ten hours was it?” Hugh inquired.

Antoine nodded, “I will do my best to send swift help. I cannot promise they will be swift though.”

“Fantastic,” Hugh stated, sarcastically. He raised his hand and motioned in a circle with one finger. “Turn around.”

The RED obeyed as the BLU stepped forward. They were intimately close in a sense. It felt wrong stabbing him in this situation, they had finally broken apart their old habits of being unfriendly and even venomous towards each other. Still, it was not as if Hugh could hesitate. In fact, he did not, his training leading him to kill yet another friend.

Antoine jerked with pain, turning his head to look at him. Hugh twisted until he heard a pop, just to be sure the death came a bit swifter. Antoine made some noises at that, before he dropped to his knees. Hugh lowered himself to Antoine’s ear.

“See you again, my friend,” he stated.

_Present time, stuck in the control room…_

Hugh realized his error, but all too late. He had wasted so much time, and now he had at least ten hours to wait before any help was sent for him. Why help could not be sent through the phone was beyond him. Perhaps it was just a matter of who he was talking to over the communication line. Perhaps he needed to go speak to somebody else in person.

Whatever the case, Hugh now had free reign of the control room. That did not mean much though, without any food or water – or toilets available in the vicinity. He was stuck there with nothing but the stagnant and uncirculated air, wondering what to do next. Of course, following his spying instincts, he started digging through more files in the desks and testing the computers through which staff members usually watched and recorded the mercenaries’ daily lives.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“I would also like to know,” Maurice inquired, interrupting the conversation.

Dooley felt alarmed at the Spy’s presence there. There was nothing like having a Spy breathing down your neck. Of course, the other Spies were somehow more intimidating, each Frenchman more dangerous than the last, but Maurice was still a very pushy and nosey Spy. He could and would make trouble for Dooley in this context.

“What the fuck were you thinking, shooting at a friendly’s car. I mean, I know you’ve only ever seen my car once, but that should very well be enough for you to question your actions!” the Italian Spy was rattling on with frustration.

Indeed, Dooley remembered the car very well. He could never forget the battered old piece of junk the two of them turned into a beauty. With some help from other sources, Maurice had taken an old and beaten piece of garbage and turned it into something beautiful. Frankly, Dooley had been surprised with Maurice up to that point, but there was something too fascinating to question about the hoity toity European Spy rolling up his sleeves and sliding under a car to make repairs, while demanding for parts like an experience mechanic.

Now that he thought about all of the time and effort put into working on that piece, he felt a bit of regret at having put bullet holes into it. He felt regret now, wishing he could take back all of those holes. Wishing he could make her the shining red beauty she was when Maurice declared his pride in his work.

“You do realize that a _pregnant woman_ was in the vehicle with us?” Maurice motioned to the woman he was speaking of. The one who was holding onto Andrew’s arm, like the man might fall over.

Dooley hesitated, pondering his current lack of sleep and his need to keep his mouth shut. He had very few options, even fewer when accounting for the Spy. There was perhaps one last tactic that would have just made the BLUs confused, but the Spy would understand. That was only if he managed to pull off this trick correctly.

He opened his mouth and took a sharp breath, “I-” He let his eyes rolled back, forcing them behind his eyelids, while trying to keep them open. His body swayed slightly, from side to side, trying to give the impression of lack of balance.

“No! No no no! Come on! No!” Maurice shouted angrily.

He leaped forward to grab the Engineer as his body tilted forward. He let his eyes close as his face landed against the soft padded shoulder of Maurice’s jacket. It smelled thickly of cigarette ash.

Maurice sighed, “So much for that, we will have to question him later.”

“The fuck’s wrong with him?” the BLU Sniper asked.

“Low blood sugar,” Maurice replied curtly, “Probably has not eaten much today. Did he eat anything in front of you, Andrew?”

“No!” the Soldier hesitated a moment before he continued, “From when I saw him, he has not eaten anything!”

“Right then,” he felt Maurice’s neck turn as he looked around, “I am not carrying this load all the way back there though.”

Even so, the Spy lowered his body to take the Engineer by the waist. He let his body slump forward as the Spy picked him up, letting him flop over his shoulder. This would have been a very uncomfortable and even humiliating position, if not for how exhausted Dooley felt. He could just lay there and let the Spy carry him around in his sleep.

“Considering I do not want to deal with one possible Medic over there, how about we wake Alhwin?” Maurice asked.

“Who?” the Sniper asked.

“Alhwin, you know? The shorter Medic with the brown hair,” Melisa offered.

“Oh,” the Sniper stated hesitantly, “Right then.”

“I’ll be taking this to the infirmary,” Maurice patted his backside. That made Dooley blush like a school girl, though he was lucky they could not see his face from this angle. Though he did lose his hardhat because of hanging upside down. “Can I count on you to wake Alhwin?” the Spy requested.

“Right, probably should get Soldier there anyways,” the Sniper growled.

They headed into the BLU base, where some alarms went off. Before long, a crowd of BLUs were filling the hallways, easily brushed off by the RED Spy and the BLU Medic. Alhwin eagerly directed Maurice to bring Dooley to the infirmary, where he could have a better look at him. He was hurried in his movements but everything else about him was calm and collected, having tended to many patients before.

Dooley could not remember if he ever had Alhwin as his doctor before. They had always been on opposing teams in the first place. And, up until Andrew came along and made them start talking, they were both too shy to speak to one another. For the most part, Dooley either ignored or avoided the Medic. It was never because he hated the man, on the contrary he thought he was interesting and unique. He trusted him with his health more than his own Medic too.

There had always been a bit of awkwardness there though. The Medic seemed oblivious to it, but Dooley had always fought for the Soldier’s attention. And when Alhwin and Solly became good friends, that put a bite in Dooley’s side.

That was in the past though. Much of that was his childish behavior back in Mexico, as he no longer thought that way about the Medic. Besides, he was no longer on the same team as Solly, and in this place that meant a whole lot more than it did back in Mexico.

It was not long before he heard the frustrated muttering and confusion of the Medic’s discovery. He kept his eyes closed and listened as the man hurried out of the infirmary to share his findings. Of course he would not be sharing them with his unconscious patient. That would have been silly, but Dooley still wished to know what he was going to tell the others.

He swung his legs off of the examination table gently. He moved carefully, toddling to the door until he could press his ear to it. He heard a chorus of voices until the Medic finally commanded their attention.

“Is he gonna be alright, doc?” the Demo’s familiar voice made him happy. There was so much concern there for him that Dooley could have cried for joy.

“He is fine,” the Medic said, dismissively.

“Then what’s wrong with him? Why did he pass out?” Maurice inquired.

“Yo, Engie don’t just pass out like that, doc,” Price put in, “You know?”

“I understand, but I believe he was under a lot of duress and suffered sleep deprivation. In the meantime, the best thing for him is to sleep,” Alhwin explained to them.

Dooley sighed. That was not the excuse he had been secretly going for, but it would do. He toddled over to the table again, hoping to reach it and mount it quietly before somebody came in. Likely Alhwin would wrap up the explanations and bring somebody in to move him from the table to the bed.

The muttering of a deeper German voice filled the room as a new figure entered the infirmary. He hurried to lay down and close his eyes hurriedly, as his heart started pounding with fear. There was something deadly frightening about that other BLU Medic, who had the laugh of a devil and the fierce love of bloody murder of a serial killer. He imagined the man was close to being more dangerous than his own team’s Nazi.

Alhwin came in saying something in German. The two struck up a conversation and worked in unison as they moved him to a gurney and then to a bed in the back of the infirmary. Neither of them spoke a word. Neither of them even tried to wake him. They just assumed the American was dead asleep and chattered endlessly in their own language.

Relief hit him when he was finally on the bed. It was not the most comfortable thing ever, but it was better than the table. At least the sheets were soft. He could have fallen asleep on concrete floors though.

“Is he awake?” Maurice pushed the double doors to the infirmary open.

“No,” Alhwin sighed, “I will let you know when we know anything new.”

“Make it sooner,” Maurice said, in a haughty tone, “This is no longer about Reliable Excavation and Demolition against Builders League United. This is much bigger than that and I intend to interrogate the Engineer the moment he is of sound mind again.”

That hit Dooley like a brick to the head. How could he have been so stupid? He could have run to the truck and tried to escape. Of course they would have fought him, but there would have been a chance. But in this case, he had no chance of escape, because he was now their prisoner.

“Nobody comes or goes from this room,” Maurice stated, “Not even a friendly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniper does not care for REDs. Although I must point out that his whole concern for the Soldier really just comes back to the Spy.  
> Maurice and Dooley once momentarily bonded over cars. I feel like Maurice is just a really friendly guy...and if you can like something about a car, he can bond with you over it.  
> Hugh is just stuck there. I keep asking why, but they keep saying "Don't question it." I am questioning it.


	15. A Spy's Work is Never Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of Spies being busy at their work.

There was so much to go through. So many hours of footage laid here, waiting for him to explore. There was so much to do and he always felt like there was so little time.

Still, when he would finally finish with something, he would stretch and look around, to find that he still had hours to go. The room got warm, heating up until it was unbearable in his suit. Given he had no Medic or respawn, he took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and took off his shoes. Still, it was not enough to ease the frustratingly stagnant heat. He needed some moving air, but there was not so much as a fan in the room.

He took a deep breath as he switched out the recordings. After much tinkering, he found that the storage was all on the computers, nothing in records, or disks, or whatever they used these days. It was difficult for him to learn, but he understood that it had a refined and smooth implication.

This recording was much older, something from back at their original base. He paused it, staring at a still of himself walking with the BLU Soldier. If he dug it out of the back of his mind, he could remember that evening. It was not that long after their first little _date_ and they were just getting to know each other. He looked upon that night so fondly.

He sighed and removed that from his focus, closing that recording. If he was going to get something done, it had to be focused on the task at hand. If he started reminiscing or getting emotional, this would all be for naught. He needed to focus on work, not his lover.

He pushed away from the desk and moved on to the next. There he found some documents on it, instead of the usual recordings. Quickly pulled out of his thoughts, he started opening documents. He was disgruntled that he could not print these in any way, but began reading with haste.

Names listed, dates with notes, and posted hits were listed here. Mann Co knew what a sniper was going after Glenn’s girlfriend before the BLU Sniper even knew what hit. He was not alone either. Teamed with Melisa’s address and information was another person’s personal information. This information was crossed out and marked as **UNNECESSARY** by a stamp. These files had to have been scanned onto the computer too. They had signatures on them, stamps, and even handwriting that Hugh recognized.

He stared at the Administrator’s handwriting with disbelief. So the supposed existence of the Administrator was true. After all, Melisa had only recently moved, so posting this had to have happened within a few years.

He took a closer look at the crossed out information to find that it was a mercenary, named Maurizio. He sighed and folded his arms over his chest. The Spy called Maurice was it? But if it was a target on him from after he was transferred to the United States, then it had to have been within the past few months.

Why target the Spy though? He was a mercenary on the payroll. From what Hugh understood, he knew nothing of what was going on with Mann Co. And lastly, there was no obvious connection to Melisa for the change.

He started pacing the room, thinking over how everything connected. Everything was just a jumbled mess. With it all rattling in his head, it was very tempting to just return to the previous desk, where he could look at recordings of Andrew.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Antoine looked around himself with a feeling of fascination. It had been a long time since he had been through the Global Respawn System. It was the one thing he could always rely on if the regular respawn went out or if he was just out of range. It was never pleasant though. Like the smaller respawn systems, this system left the mind in a cloud and could create a massive headache. There was always a chance for respawning with small holes in one’s memory, more so in this larger much grander scale respawn. The smaller systems usually had only nine to eighteen mercenaries logged into it, but this system had a grand total of several hundred mercenaries scanned to its system.

When he finally managed to gain his concentration, he looked over at the clock. Eleven hours and three minutes from what he remembered the time being when he died. Of course, perhaps he was remembering the time wrong. Either way, it was time to send some help for Hugh, before somebody caused trouble over there.

He left the respawn room and headed down the hall. This was an area for recovery, with a few infirmary rooms, some being tended to by Medics, and some were simply studies, where multiple mercenaries shared a space with paperwork and computers. He remembered being overwhelmed by this area, but after sharing a space for a while, he found that it was actually quite easy to get used to this.

He found his way to the study he shared with a couple of other Spies and a Scout. He was surprised to see one of the Spies there, looking like she had not slept in a while. He greeted her with a basic wave.

“Ah, Monsieur de la France,” she joked.

“Mademoiselle Russie,” he responded in kind, but without the jesting nature. He was in no mood to put on a playful tone.

“Much too serious for your job,” she poked at him verbally.

He rolled his eyes as he sat down at his desk. He took a mental assessment of what he needed to do. Then he started searching through the desk to remind himself of what was at his disposal. He was glad to find the working radio in his desk.

“You seem upset,” she spoke in French.

“Your French has improved,” he noted.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she pressed on.

He switched to Russian, “When you have thought of something original to discuss, then we can talk.” She huffed, giving him a pursed lipped frown.

When she went silent, he turned to his work. He had to set the old radio up and get it running. He was not sure why he never kept the user manual for this thing. It just seemed to get more and more confusing every time he had to use it, which was rarely.

“You still use that old thing?” the Russian Spy asked.

He shot her a glare, “It is what I have.”

She rolled her eyes and reached into her desk. She pulled out a small handheld device and started pressing buttons on it. When she was finished, she handed it to him.

“What is this?” he looked at the foreign object with disdain and confusion.

“It’s the most advanced smart phone on the market,” she told him simply, “But, I opened up the radio device in it so you can just connect to the radio you are wanting to call to. Just enter the channel number you want to call over.”

He hesitated, looking at the object with confusion. This thing was some sort of phone? It seemed so unlike a phone. There seemed to be no microphone end. There did not seem to be a speaker end either. It was flat and strange in his hand.

“Need help with that?” she asked, with a tone that questioned his intelligence.

He glared at her then returned to investigating the smart phone. He was a Spy, trained to investigate and figure things out on the fly, he could manage this. This was nothing.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was just finishing his rounds – as arranged by the other BLU Soldier – when he paused by the infirmary doors. A temptation called to him, with a curiosity as to the Engineer’s wellbeing. The man seemed so out of it the day before that it was hard to get a good answer out of him. Perhaps exhaustion had been the problem all day, and Andrew had just not paid enough attention to the man’s needs. Of course, he had slept in the truck, but perhaps he should have urged the man to sleep some more, because after their awkward little discussion, the Engineer did not seem to be able to go back to sleep.

He felt bad, even a little guilty. He started to ponder whether it would be so bad if his rounds were foregone in favor of checking up on a friend. They had not been close in a while; ever since they came here things had been different. Spending time with a RED just was not within his capability at this base.

He took a deep breath and marched into the infirmary. He was ready to hear snoring, but not muffled screaming. It struck a chord in his nerves and caused him to tighten a grip on his gun. He moved more slowly now, trying to keep his steps quiet. He was sure that whoever was in here had heard him by now though. It was just a matter of keeping out of their immediate line of sight when they had their guns at the ready.

He was edging towards a curtain when it zipped open very suddenly. He brought his shotgun to bear, silently standing before Maurice with his pistol raised. There was something wildly terrifying in Maurice’s eyes that he could not put words to.

“Ah, it’s just you, amico,” the RED Spy noted, lowering his weapon with a small smile.

Sudden muffled screaming from behind him brought Andrew’s attention to the infirmary bed behind him. Maurice was completely unconcerned with it by now, but Andrew could see the body kicking. He did not need to see to know it was the Engineer.

“What do you think you are doing?” Andrew growled, never lowering the barrel, “That’s your teammate.”

“I am simply interrogating,” Maurice stated, with a hand gesture that involved his gun.

There was no aggression about him though, so Andrew could not find himself offended or in any way threatened by the RED. He would not take a risk though. All of his training as a Soldier, and work around Spies, told him that this was a foolish idea.

“Why is he screaming?” Andrew demanded, stepping carefully forward. He kept his gun up, but he did not want to appear threatening. “Why is he gagged?” He stepped in to find that the Engineer had been completely gag with duct tape, his wrists and ankles bound tightly, and his face was red. Everything about him bespoke discomfort and fear.

As Andrew swung around to face the Spy, the barrel coming to his chin, Maurice raised his arms, pointing his revolver to the ceiling. “No need for shots, amico,” he assured him, “The Medics both know I am here and why. Alhwin could not handle the job, so he stepped out. I think he required medical attention of his own anyways.”

He looked from the Spy to the Engineer and back. The Engineer was pleading, though he could not hear the words. The tears on his face and the look in his eyes was all he needed to understand what was happening to the Engineer.

“He knows more than he has let on, amico,” the Spy disengaged his weapon before tucking it away in its sheath.

That was when Andrew noticed that the Spy was missing his suit jacket. He had straps around his body that held several pistols to his person. These straps only seemed to accentuate the fact that his sleeves were rolled up, keeping his shirt sleeves from harm’s way. It was a very different look for the Italian Spy, which revealed a long thin scar up his left forearm.

“I intend to find out what it is that he is hiding,” Maurice turned back to his prisoner. He had no weapons in hand, so Andrew could not exactly argue, but the moment his hands grabbed the duct tape gag, the Engineer started thrashing and bawling.

“Dammit,” Andrew sighed. He raised his shotgun and brought it down on the Spy’s head. Of course, he had not accounted for the fact that he was not a very high jumper and the Spy was quite tall, taller than Hugh.

“OW! What the hell was that for?!” the Spy exclaimed, rubbing his head. He turned to give Andrew an offended look.

“I cannot allow you to torture this one, soldier!” he took on his most commanding voice. His voice even got away from him for a while as he started berating the Spy. By the time that Maurice was on the floor and he was pulling the Engineer off of the table, he had forgotten what he had just done.

“Th-thanks, partner,” the Engineer sniffled.

Andrew patted the Engineer’s back in silence. Maurice was wiping blood off of his face, as it poured from his nose, when the Engineer turned and struck him with his boot.

“Stand down!” Andrew commanded, pulling the Engineer away from the Spy on the ground.

“Damn snake!” the Engineer hissed.

“You will not get away with this,” the Spy growled, “Everything you have done up to this point will mean nothing unless you come clean. Everything you do hereafter will determine whether you live to see the next New Year.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing that New Year’s party, Spy,” the Engineer spat at him.

“Take it easy,” Andrew patted his back and guided him towards the entrance to the infirmary.

The Engineer was sighing with relief when they stepped out of the infirmary together. He was sniffling and sighing as he tried to gather his breath and his wits. He seemed to have been falling apart in there, and the redness had yet to leave him.

“Just take it easy there, son,” Andrew rubbed his back.

“I…that was a lot to handle,” Engineer said, leaning into his hand a little.

“Soldier!” a familiar German voice announced.

He turned to face the man squarely, “Medic! We require your assistance!”

“What did you do?” the Medic growled, he had a sharp look about him, like one of those birds he liked so much hunting a mouse.

“I do not remember!” he announced, “But Maurice was torturing Engie, so I am removing him from your infirmary. Oh! And also Maurice needs your attention. His nose broke.”

“You broke his nose,” the Medic stated. He did not look surprised or questioning in the least.

“Yes I did,” Andrew nodded.

The Medic sighed and rubbed his forehead, “I am left to deal with you-” His eyes shot past Andrew, then darted back to him. “I am sorry to do this, my friend,” the Medic stepped towards them. He was completely unarmed, but there was something deadly and threatening about him, that Andrew wanted to back away from him.

“Medic, stand down,” Andrew growled, suddenly intimidated by the bigger man.

“I have no weapons,” in spite of the assurance, Andrew raised his barrel, “No saw and no pistol. I am completely harmless.”

“I am going to count to three for you to stand do-” he was cut off as arms flung around his neck and grabbed the gun. One arm tried to wrestle him into submission through his neck, the other tried to pry the gun away.

“Ah hell!” the Engineer exclaimed, as he darted off. Soldier could only cheer for him to run faster than the Medic. Short men could sprint faster than long legged men, right?

“I am sorry to do this to you,” Alhwin’s familiar voice was gentle on his ear, “But you left me no choice.” A sharp pain drove into his shoulder as the arm around his neck drove a syringe into his muscle. “Just go to sleep,” Alhwin insisted softly, “Just go to sleep and this will be all okay when you wake up.”

Andrew was a bit too panicked to calm down, yet he found himself drifting to sleep. Alhwin’s was very relaxing too. He could have been singing a lullaby or panicking, either way Andrew could not tell. His soft words were spoken in such a way that they drove him right into his slumber. All he could hear anymore was a soft murmur, of which he could not understand the words.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“No no, try like this,” the Russian Spy reached over to snatch the device from Antoine’s hand. She quickly clicked some buttons, before handing it back over.

He sighed with frustration and put the device to his ear again. It was weird, and seemed like the kind of thing that should give off cancer or something. Still, he was trusting it to work.

“Hello?” a familiar Texan voice answered his call.

“Engineer!” he exclaimed with relief.

“Spy? What are you doing? We have been waiting for you! Where are you?” the Engineer asked.

“That is not important at this time,” he insisted, “Please get the Medic on the radio for me.”

“Why? What for?” the Engineer asked.

“Just do it,” he commanded.

There was a long pause, “Which one?”

“Maxwell,” he answered with a roll of his eyes, “Our more experienced Medic.”

There was a breath of relief from the other end, probably because he would not have to deal with the Nazi Medic. “Gimme a few.”

The channel went quiet as the Engineer left. Spy waited there, with the other Spy watching curiously. She was like a hawk as she gazed over him.

“I presume you have your own things to get done?” he asked.

“Nope, nothing,” she shrugged, “My team does not expect me back for another few days.”

“Well, isn’t that pleasant then,” he growled. He tried to ignore her, turning his attention fully away from her.

The click of a voice on the channel could not come soon enough. “Hello? Spy, you there?” the Engineer asked.

“Yes, I am here,” he responded.

“Good, here he is,” the Engineer stated.

“Hello? Spy?” the Medic’s accent sounded thicker on the radio.

“Maxwell,” the Spy responded.

“You are insufferable,” was the growled response.

“No time for petty exchanges,” he spoke hurriedly now, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of somebody for hours now! You need to get to the control center. Open it up and let out the man who was left behind.”

“Who was left behind there? What did you do there? What happened?” Max demanded.

“I do not have time to explain,” he insisted.

He remembered how much Max loathed Hugh, though he did not know why. It would be best if he did not know that it was the BLU Spy, so that he would let him out before he had the chance the cause harm. Hugh was talented enough to get himself out of the situation from there.

“We are missing a Miss Pauling and things are not tying together,” he stated, “Go let that mercenary out of the control center!”

“If I am letting this man out, you are telling me who he-” he cut off the signal from there, refusing to listen further. He handed the device to the Russian and turned to his desk, he had a lot of searching to do for the information he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe I wrote two chapters in one work day.
> 
> I am only more confused at this resolution. I hope Hugh is figuring this shit out, because I am not.


	16. Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is that calm before the storm.

Andrew roused to find hands on his person. He blinked away the sleepiness, looking up to see Alhwin. He had a hand on the Soldier’s chest as he reached up on tip toes for the medigun. It seemed to be well out of Alhwin’s reach, lifted just far enough that the other Medic could reach it.

Andrew let out a huff, too weary to speak just yet. It alerted Alhwin to him though, bringing his attention to the Soldier’s face. He flinched with surprise, before returning to his efforts of trying to reach the medigun.

“Ah, good to see you awake, my friend,” Alhwin stated, as his fingertips grazed the smooth metal.

“What happened?” he muttered, even though he already remembered what had happened. A fleeting feeling of betrayal hit him, followed by frustration that the same man who stabbed him was reaching for the thing that would heal him.

“We could not risk your temper, my friend,” Alhwin explained, “We were not sure what else to do. At least the Engineer is back. He is downstairs though.”

“Downstairs?” somehow that became more important. Since when did this base have a downstairs? He was certain that it had a base floor and then an upstairs, unless he missed a basement.

“He will be fine,” he assured Andrew, with a gentle pat on his chest, before returning to his efforts.

“Are they hurting him?” Andrew winced as the thought brought his mind back to the state he found the Texan in.

“Well uh…” Alhwin hesitated, his face turning a little red, “I um…I would rather we did not discuss it far, but yes. I suppose they are _hurting_ him.”

Andrew frowned at that. Torture was something communists and Nazis did. That was not the American way. He knew for sure that he had to stop the torture, even if there was something important the Engineer knew, which they needed to know about.

“I assure you,” Alhwin insisted, a bit nervously, “Our best Medic is down there tending to him! He will be seen to for every single injury. We just want answers that he is not giving.”

Andrew hesitated, thinking this over. He remembered Maurice standing there in the opening of the curtains. He remembered how he held the pistol, with such grace and calm about him. He seemed like more a Spy then than any other time in Andrew’s memory. Perhaps he just never paid enough attention to Maurice when he was working, perhaps he only paid him mind when he was being friendly and trying to get his attention.

It hurt to fight with these thoughts. It hurt to try and remember which was more a friend. Who could he trust? The Engineer was a dear friend to him, having latched onto him in a sense, since the day they met. Was the Engineer infatuated from the first time they met? Maybe that was not the case, maybe it was just an affection that formed over time. Besides, Andrew was not that good looking of a man, so it had to be something else about him that the Engineer liked.

That made him ponder harder on the Engineer. What was it that he liked? Sure, he liked men who were manly, but what exactly about Andrew had him so wrapped up around the Soldier.

It seemed unlikely that there was something striking about Andrew’s personality that attracted the Engineer. It also seemed unlikely to him that the Engineer liked that he yelled a lot. It was very likely that he saw Andrew through rose colored glasses.

He shook the questions from his mind, turning his attention back to Alhwin. The man was trying to get his knees up on the table so he could get a little higher. His fingers were barely grazing the barrel of the medigun, which was starting to tilt upwards with every bump of the man’s fingers.

Andrew sighed, “Let me help w-” He started to sit up, but he did not get far before a pain lurched through his body. He collapsed, his body unbidden to the pain of something he could not see or fathom. He was not even sure if it was a real pain though.

“Nein!” the doctor turned to his patient, pushing him down and hurriedly moving about. He started slurring in a bunch of German words that slid together in a fractal nonsense in Andrew’s ears. “Please lay still, Soldier!” the Medic pleaded.

When Andrew finally managed to take a breath, tears filled his eyes. It was very painful. He was not sure what it was, but it made his body feel like he was run through.

“What…happened…” his mind started to fade, while the infirmary started to spin uncontrollably. It was all very painful and he did not want to let go, but at the same time he did want to release everything.

“Stay with me, Soldier!” Alhwin barked.

His German accent started seeping through, becoming thicker as he grew panicked. He hurried about the infirmary, searching for tools and bringing things to put onto Andrew’s body. Andrew tried to crane his neck, but found that the skin pulled at what seemed to be an injury.

He settled for raising a hand. He was not sure where to feel for a wound though. His hand just reached blindly, his fingers gently searching, until he touched his chest. Hot blood soaked the front of his jacket, which was torn asunder, and his fingertips found something smooth and metallic.

“What’s…?” he did not have the strength to make a coherent sentence. After trying to sit up, he was having a difficult time breathing.

“You should not have moved!” the Medic darted around frantically, “This is not good! None of this is suited to my height!”

The frustrated Medic darted across the infirmary to bring back a chair to stand on. When he brought the medigun down, the soothing sensation brought back a bit of Andrew’s breath. Maybe whatever was in him had moved, and caused some injury to his lungs. The medigun was definitely the perfect tool for healing stabbed lungs.

“What is this?” Andrew asked, his fingertips brushing the metallic object.

Alhwin was silent, aside from breathing, as he quickly worked. He was trying to stop bleeding before he finally stopped. He panted heavily, as his eyes met Andrew’s.

“In the struggle, Balwin came charging in, yelling about zombies and swinging around a sign. He broke it and accidentally stabbed you,” Alhwin paused to brush the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

“Balwin?” Andrew was not familiar with that name.

“The other Soldier,” Alhwin chuckled breathily.

Andrew chuckled a little bit at that. He never knew the other Soldier’s name, as they only referred to each other as _Soldier_. They had no reason to do otherwise. He wondered why the man was not wielding a more useful weapon, like a shotgun.

“Heh. Soldiers,” Alhwin breathed, in a jesting tone.

Andrew chuckled a bit more, his fingers brushing a bit more against the pole through his torso. He felt a bit more confident, now that he knew what it was. He smiled to Alhwin to reassure him that he understood the joke.

“Thanks for tending to me, doc,” he said.

Alhwin nodded, with a small gesture of his hand, “Let’s get this out of your chest, my friend.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Max growled irritably. Everything the Spy had said made no sense. Of course, as per the usual, the man was very vague about what he meant and why he had to do this. Of course, Max would not question it further, given the risks he would take at slighting a Spy.

He knew what could come at him. He knew what secrets he was hiding. He knew the Spy knew those secrets. It was the way of Spies, to find things out and use information as blackmail. And given the chance, a Spy would use that blackmail. Max never had to be told about that part though, he knew the unspoken rules of dealing with a Spy.

“Shouldn’t I come with you?” the Heavy asked, leaning against the side of the ambulance.

Max glanced over at the Heavy as he hefted his medigun. He set the pack down, trying to busy himself, after the regret of looking. Boris had that look about him that he knew the Medic liked. He had that grinned, that slightly cocky attitude, one arm raised over his head, bracing the elbow against the truck, and his hips slightly cocked to the side.

His mind wanted to explore all of the things they could do on the way to where Max needed to go. He shook those thoughts away, forcing himself to focus as he started searching through his box of keys, just to make sure he had the right ones. He suspected the Spy knew that he had made copies of the keys that were used at the control center.

“You will go alone then?” Boris pushed his lower lip out in a pout, “Without so much as a Heavy Weapon’s Guy around to help you?”

Max chewed on his lip, trying to get the image of Boris that was burning into his peripheral vision out of his mind. Boris did not need to look too good, he just knew how to push Max’s buttons. But, that was not enough for the Medic to risk his love’s safety and health. He could not have anybody seeing the Heavy spending so much personal time with him on camera. He especially could not risk being caught on camera revealing something like the control center to somebody who did not know.

“You want me to go with you,” Boris stated, “I know this.”

“Yes, but you mustn’t,” the Medic chewed on his lip as he tucked the appropriate keys into his lab coat pockets, “I must go now.”

Boris sighed, “Alright then, doctor. I will see you when I see you.”

“Thank you, my darling,” he said, letting a momentary word of endearment slip from his lips before he clambered into the driver’s seat. He hurried from the base though, not wanting to give himself second thoughts about the opportunity for personal time with the Heavy.

It would have been personal time one way anyways, given there would be another person in the vehicle. He did not want to risk so much as a hint of what they were to each other. He would not risk bringing Boris to pick somebody up.

When he reached the control center, he was surprised to find it locked. Why he was surprised, he was not sure. The Spy had hinted that the whole place had locked down, and that had to be the basics of why the person could not get out.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh glared at the monitor. It was all glaring back at him. He had spent the entire day viewing files. He had gone over so many recordings, playing them back when he thought he might find something useful.

There was information on the other team here too. Much of it came from Mexico, simply transferred from their control room down there to this one here, probably for reference. Whatever the case, the files listed hours upon hours of recordings displaying the behaviors they were documenting. There were documents that gave names and listed actions that had been deemed unfavorable.

On the other hand, there were documents on a project. These files were signed by Miss Pauling. He recognized her handwriting well, with her little notes on the sides and scribbled into corners. This was something she had been working on for some time too, with documents dated back to the eighties.

When a monitor snapped on with the image of the front door, he was a bit startled. He had been deep in thought, putting pieces of the puzzle together. He looked to see the RED Medic. But why was he here? Did Antoine not say he would send the BLU Demoman.

He rubbed his hands over his face and looked to the time on a monitor. It was late into the night, just a quarter past one in the morning. How it had gotten to be so late without him noticing was beyond him. He was usually so good at keeping track of time. Of course, that was outside of his more integral work, the kind of work that gave him a real challenge to work with.

Everything was only just starting to make sense, if you separated Miss Pauling from the entity within Mann Co that was attacking them. It made sense if you separated the concept of the linear. If you placed various heads into the mix. The various descendants of the Mann Brothers, both Redmond and Blutarch. They had had quite a few children, it seemed, some of them they had not even known about. Those children had children, who eventually inherited the fortune. Being unwilling to fight amongst themselves they instead shared it in a shareholder manner of owning the company.

“Hello in there!” a German voice trilled through the speakers.

He snapped around to look at the monitor which was now showing the outside. His mind was so tired that his thoughts had drifted far away from what was happening around him. That or he had just become too consumed by his work for the past hours. He wondered if Antoine was even able to get this much information, given he did not seem to already know what was going on.

“I do not know who is in there!” the German called, juggling between card keys, regular keys, and some weird mechanism on the door, “But I have been sent by the RED Spy. I will…hopefully…only be a few moments. Everything will be alright!”

Hugh looked at the clock again. How had he missed that it was not late into the night but early in the morning now? How had it been more than a day? Had he missed something? Was he really that deep in his work that he had left the entire day get away from him? And without food or water no less.

“I imagine, you have been in there a long while?” the doctor tried to make light conversation through the camera, “No need to worry! I am the Medic. I am here to help!”

Panic hit Hugh, a strong panic that seemed to wash away the exhaustion. This was Maxwell Fischer. This was a man who hated him without needing much reason. This was somebody he pissed off for sport on the battlefield. If he found that it was the BLU Spy in here, he would try to kill him.

He rushed for his jacket to search for his disguise kit. He had to have it on his person. In his rush, he could not find it though. He dug through every pocket he had, hoping to find it buried somewhere. Of course, perhaps it fell out in the RED Spy’s car, before they got out.

He sighed and cursed himself. He would not get out of this one so easily with a disguise. He needed an alternative.

“Oh right,” he heard the Medic go on, “My medigun. I almost forgot!”

The Medic hurried from where he was, rushing off to fetch something. This would give Spy more time to think. He pulled down his sleeves and slipped into his jacket. He did not have much time to work, so he had to think quickly over his options. He only knew of the one way out, and that was the way that the Medic was unlocking for him. He had very few options to disguise himself or give the impression that he was not there, without the Medic simply locking him in.

“Oh dear,” the Medic returned to the camera at the door, “It seems I have left my medigun behind!” He hesitated, scratching at his head.

Spy began mapping out the room. There was a pattern to the desks. If he used the desks to his advantage, perhaps he could draw the man inside and sneak past him unseen. He quickly went to work moving stuff around, hoping he could draw the man in without being seen. It hurt to act so hurriedly and force himself to think so fast, due to how exhausted his mind was.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Little Soldier feels better?” one of the BLU Heavies asked.

Andrew took a deep breath and nodded, “Much better.”

The RED Heavy, whom he recognized as the old BLU Heavy from Mexico, gave him a hearty chuckle and a clap on the back, “Soldier is resilient man!”

The other RED Heavy seemed rather distant from the conversation. He was there, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Soldier gave him his distance though, not wanting to make him feel pushed out of the way. Already, it seemed like the more experienced mercenaries, the ones used to these cold woods, were having a difficult time getting along with their usual enemies, the way the men from Mexico did.

“Hello!” a familiar voice caught their attentions. They all turned to see Alhwin running towards them. “Oh, Soldier! Feeling better?”

Andrew pounded his chest, “Fit as an American Ox!”

Alhwin chuckled awkwardly at that, “Well then…I’m glad. But, I require assistance, please. Would any of you be willing to lend me your height and strength?”

“Little Medic needs to grow several feet taller,” a BLU Heavy chuckled.

Andrew chuckled at that, “Short stacked and still working twice as hard.”

Alhwin did not seem very humored by the comment, “Regardless, I require some assistance. Might you help me?”

His eyes grazed over each Heavy with a pleading expression. Those eyes grazed past Andrew though, not wanting him to volunteer. Andrew did not need to be told. He was not wanted in situations in which they thought he would create problems.

The Heavy Weapons Guys started talking amongst themselves. It was then that the RED Engineer, the one Andrew used to fight back in the mountains, approached them. They were confused when he handed a radio to a RED Heavy. Surprisingly, the voice of a RED Medic was on the other end of the line.

When he handed the radio back, Andrew shook himself. Each of the other Heavys had left with Alhwin to help him in the infirmary. It was just him standing with a RED Heavy and a RED Engineer.

“Mind giving Heavy a ride?” the Heavy asked the Engineer.

“No can do partner,” the Engineer replied, “Got a lot of work on my hands. Respawn has been overloaded. Gotta keep it from glitching.”

Andrew hesitated for thought. The other RED Engineer had a truck he was not using. Andrew had already driven it before, so it would not be difficult to do. The two REDs started heading out when Andrew piped up.

“I can give you a ride!” he called after the Heavy. Both men turned their attentions to him with curiosity. “I got nothing better to do,” he shrugged.

The Heavy exchanged a look with his Engineer, “Little Soldier has a car?”

Andrew paused, digging the Engineer’s keys out of his pocket. The others must have never checked for them, because they were still buried in his pocket. He did not remember putting them there at the time, but old habits died hard. He presented the keys and smiled.

“Engie left his pickup!” he said, with a small bit of delight at the prospect of being helpful.

The Engineer patted the Heavy’s shoulder, “Good luck, partner.”

The Heavy looked at the RED Engineer with pleading eyes, before Andrew clapped him on the shoulder. He paused to glance at the Engineer and then back to the Heavy. He gave him a big smile that he hoped was reassuring. Just because they had been enemies for decades did not mean they could not work together on something.

“What do you need a ride for, any who?” he asked the man, hoping to push forward with some semblance of ease.

“Doctor forgot healing machine, and has car troubles,” the Heavy explained.

“We’ll take it to him then!” Andrew smiled with delight at the idea of helping.

It was kind of weird, helping out the REDs. But, seeing how many stepped forward with the courage to guard a young woman bearing a child, ignoring their hate for BLUs, he could admire at least some of them – referring to the older enemies, with whom he shared no prior friendships. And if any of his friends on RED were indicators, he could make friends with his old enemies too. Perhaps it could be like down in Mexico, where they could shoot each other dead on the battlefield, then go get cold beers together.

The Heavy sighed, “Max is not going to like this.” The Heavy lumbered off towards the RED base.

“I’ll bring the truck over!” Andrew called after him, before he darted off towards the Engineer’s little truck.

Taking a better look at it, he realized how new it looked compared to the other trucks. Sure, it was beat up, rusty and dented, but there was something new about the model. That probably explained the different assortment of controls, including the powerful heating unit.

When he brought he truck to the RED base, the Heavy was waiting outside. Both of the RED Snipers were talking to him, along with the RED Soldier named Krakowski. Andrew would have waited in the truck, but he became a little intrigued. How often could a BLU just hop on over to the RED base in a friendly manner? At least, in a base that was not down in Mexico.

“Hey there, Soldier!” the Sniper named Carlos waved to him.

The Soldier hesitated. There was a change in small insignificant gestures. There was not much that needed to be said though, as Andrew exchanged looks and nods with Krakowski. Both were men of the US Military, and understood a great deal more about each other than any of the other mercenaries. But, something about being within the same friendly vicinity, at the same parties down in Mexico, made it easier for him to exchange this feeling of brotherhood that came with being out of the Marines – with this particular Soldier.

“We go now,” the Heavy interrupted his thoughts, “Doctor is waiting.”

Andrew nodded to him and followed him back to the truck. He felt a moment of disappointment, but let it pass. When he hopped into the driver’s seat, he realized that the Heavy did not know how to change the seat’s position. He started to instruct him, but they found that the controls of the passenger seat were not the same as the driver’s seat. They spent near twenty minutes just trying to fix the seat, adjusting it to a position the Heavy could sit in, without banging his knees against the glove compartment.

“Alright then!” Andrew announced as he started up the vehicle.

The truck started down the road in silence. Neither could bring themselves to speak. Andrew was not sure what to bring up to make conversation anymore. He could only think over the past twenty minutes or so of talking to the Heavy, and realizing that there were hints of disgust, where the man did not want to talk to Andrew. He decided it was best to just stay quiet until they arrived.

“You should turn right up here,” the Heavy pointed.

“You sure you know where you are going?” Andrew asked with uncertainty. _He_ did not even know where he was going, so he could not be sure what the direction was.

“Yes, doctor gave me directions,” the man nodded.

“Good,” Andrew took a deep breath, “Then we shan’t get lost!”

There were a few moments of silence, before the Heavy spoke again, “Soldier is very positive man.”

Andrew glanced at him before he spoke, “I like to think I am. Thank you.”

The Heavy was giving him a look, but he could not tell what it was from his peripheral vision. At this hour of the night, there was no rational reason to take his sleepy eyes off of the dark road either. So he kept his eyes tightly concentrated on the curves ahead.

“Soldier is much different from how he seems,” the Heavy explain, “You seem different.”

“Different?” Andrew parroted, “I am different? Different how?”

The Heavy muttered some Russian words before continuing in English, “On battle, you are loud and boastful American. You are like other Soldier.”

“I am the proudest of American Soldiers, son!” his smile got big, he could not control it.

“I see,” the Heavy’s voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke. It held a thoughtful tone, like there was so much more going on in his head that he was unable to express in English. “You are smiling a lot.”

“I like to smile,” Andrew shrugged, “It is not a crime to be smiling, unless you are on duty in the face of the enemy!”

“I see,” the Heavy nodded again. Once again, he looked like he became deep in some eloquent thought that he could not put into words for Andrew to understand.

“Doesn’t Krakowski smile?” he asked. He remembered seeing the other Soldier smiling before, back in Mexico.

“Who?” was the Heavy’s response.

Andrew hesitated, needing a moment to realize that the Heavy probably did not know the Soldier’s name, “RED Soldier from Mexican base.” He glanced at the Heavy to see the look of recognition.

“Little Soldier? He does not smile often. He is seeming less and less smiling. I think it is little doctor. Little doctor is bad doctor.”

“Little doctor? Bad doctor?” it took him a couple of minutes to think on.

To think of a smaller Medic brought his mind back to Alhwin, who was just a bit shorter than Andrew. But, that did not make sense, since Alhwin was a BLU and Krakowski was a RED now. The disconnect in logic sent Andrew for a loop of thinking, before he finally understood who the Heavy was talking about.

“Oh! You mean that dirt munching Nazi?” he asked, casually.

“Ah, so little Soldier is familiar with RED doctor?” the Heavy gave him a questioning and curious expression.

“I used to be on the RED team,” he grimace, “Down in Mexico, I had to work with that guy. He tortured Nikita, and that was-” He noted the confused look that suddenly struck the Heavy’s face. “Nikita was the RED Heavy in Mexico, but now he is on the BLU team. He switched places with the other Heavy on your team,” he explained.

“I see,” the Heavy nodded.

“I am glad _he_ is not on my side,” Andrew breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why is this?” the Heavy asked.

“Is it not obvious?” he gave the Heavy an astounded look.

“No,” the Heavy shook his head.

“That no good, dirty rotten Nazi was always a poor sport. And even down in Mexico was the most unpleasant and cruelest person,” he explained, “And he turned on teammates.”

“He would kill teammates?” the Heavy asked with concern.

Andrew nodded, “He tortured Nikita, but now Nikita is on BLU.”

“Soldier is on BLU now,” the Heavy noted, “Did Nazi Medic torture BLU Soldier?”

“No,” Andrew shook his head, “He tortured my friends. You don’t mess with my friends, pal.”

“Ah,” the Heavy nodded, “I agree. I can handle many things. But hurting my friends is not one of them.”

Andrew smiled at the other man. They continued to talk, as they found they had a lot in common. It was strange to think that for so long they were enemies, and now they were chatting like new pals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly became very busy with projects for work and trying to furnish my new home. I am sleeping on a Japanese futon on the floor, and my back is not happy for it.  
> Also, thanks to Hugh, it is starting to make sense to me. Thank you Hugh.


	17. Let There Be Death

“Here we go!” Max chirped when he finally got the main door open.

He stepped into the hallway and immediately felt dread and regret. Why had he trusted the Spy so easily? Spies were not to be trusted. Yet, for some odd reason, he had allowed himself to be volunteered for this job. Not like there were many others who knew about Mann Co Productions and its unit of watchmen.

Why there was nobody here was beyond him though. Most of the time there were at least two people here. If they were not monitoring the mercenaries, they were editing shots to make them look better and cut out boring pieces. His favorite part of coming here was that he could sit in and help play with the video. Doing this himself, he often found and cut himself and Boris out of compromising shots, where the company may otherwise have caught onto their relationship.

Boris could not know though. It was not much of a dilemma to him, as it was better this way. Nothing would change if he told the man the truth about their work. The only thing that would probably happen would be that he would be in a state of shock and go through a crazy set of emotions.

Not that he knew from experience, he had been quite indifferent to the whole affair. He could still do his work, perform surgeries and create miracles of science. There was nothing to stop him, in fact, there was only evidence making him look like an actor in a play. All of that blood seemed too unreal to the audience.

But Boris was an emotional bundle. He came with his own set of issues that Max had to work through, and probably hid some more, just to make himself tolerable to Max. Maybe he would ask the oversized teddy bear of a man later, for now he needed to find out who was left behind here.

He stepped carefully, but that did not prevent his boots from ringing on the tile flooring. He paused at a light switch, flicking it on to look around. He used the little light to search some of the side rooms, such as the bathrooms, the break room, the conference room, and the lunch room. That when he realized that it seemed rather ridiculous for such a small building with so very little work done in it to have so many rooms dedicated to free time and breaks.

“Hello?” he finally called out. Maybe they were miserable from heat exhaustion and dehydration. “Is anybody here?” he meandered towards the control room door.

The hall was silent. The rooms were all silent. The light switch went untouched by Spy hands. He felt so alone.

He crept quietly towards the door and put his ear to it. He could not hear anything inside, no shuffling or attempts at crying out for help. Of course, if somebody was locked in there, away from access to bathrooms, water, food, and other necessities that were in the lunch room and break room, it was just as likely that they had passed out from the stress.

“I am coming in!” he announced, “Do not be startled! I am a doctor!” Silence answered him, and he became certain that the room was void of conscious life.

He dug into his pockets for the keys. He had to sift through them, having forgotten to label them. They were not standard keys, after all. These were keys he had made out of _borrowed_ keys, copies that nobody knew he had after he _found_ and returned the originals to their rightful owners.

When he got the key out, he placed it to the door and waited for it to beep. He watched the door pop open of its own accord, before he took the handle and swung it out. The stale air was rancid with body sweat, death and urine. It sent a shiver crawling up his back, as he thought of the many times he had gone to save the Sniper, only to find him dead and soaking in a puddle of his own jarate. What a mess that man was.

He took a hesitant step inside. The stench became one with his senses, though he closed his eyes to try and block the air out of his pupils. It was like breathing in some ungodly gas. He at first started to wonder if it would kill him, to which he thought he could gladly bring his shorter medical colleague here to test it out.

He took a step back out and breathed some of the fresher air. Fresh was relative, as the stale stench filled the hallway. It was rancid, and made him want to puke.

When he gathered his senses, being as he was experienced with the smell of death, he stepped inside the room with his head held high. He would make his entrance regal. If anybody was awake, they would see him as their rescuer, and the best thing since the invention of medical tape.

“Hello?” he called, “Hello?”

He stopped, noticing the odd placement of the desks. Everything was out of order and misplaced. This made his hands itch and irritation drive into his nerves. Things had been moved around from where they were before and he did not know how to feel about that.

His attention was caught by something blinking on a monitor in the far corner. He was curious about what it was, so he started towards it. He stopped when he suddenly remembered the desks. They were not placed in a way that they were in any way useful, and the main area, in the center of the room, was devoid of use. This was not the way the workers would have arranged things.

He turned on his boot heel to see a blue suit darting from the first desk to the door. He gasped with surprise, “Spy!”

The Spy noted his presence out of the corner of his eye, then broke into a fully extended run. Max ran after him, a bit stunned to find a BLU here, frustrated that he had so easily been tricked, and angry that he had just let out his arch enemy. His nemesis would have to learn a new lesson about crossing the RED Medic. At least the one called Maxwell Fischer.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Here,” Boris pointed.

Andrew smiled, “Well, that was a longer drive than I expected!”

“I was starting to question if we were going right way,” Boris nodded in agreement.

They both hopped out and headed towards the run down building. The new friends toddled towards it together, each of them hesitant to approach what looked like a condemned place. Andrew had his hesitations about the possibility of spooks and ghosts. Not that he was afraid of them, he had dealt with old hag wizards, so he could deal with some naughty specters.

“Am not so sure anymore, Drew,” Boris scratched his chin.

Andrew chuckled a bit at the new nickname. Nobody had called him Drew before. It seemed rather interesting that the RED Heavy was the type of guy to befriend somebody and get their name and information out of them quickly. They had exchanged names and began relating to each other over guns care and the types of equipment they used to care for their weapons.

“Maybe this is wrong place,” Boris nodded to himself.

A pair of screams came from the building. They left both men baffled. They stared, gaping with confusion, as a BLU Spy darted out of the building, heeled by a RED Medic. Both men were screaming, one with fear, the other with anger.

“Get back here!” the Medic screamed.

“Doctor!” Boris called out to him.

“Not now!” the Medic called to him, chasing the Spy down the street. Andrew could only watch with confusion.

Boris clapped a big hand over his shoulder, “Come, we need to bring Medic his pack. Maybe he will calm down.”

Andrew looked to him and nodded, before they headed to the truck. Much to their dismay, the medipack was as broken as they had put it in. That meant that it had not fixed itself, after they had hastily put it in the back, causing the hose and pack to dislocate from each other. Neither man knew how it worked, so their attempts at fixing it had never worked.

Maybe this could distract the Medic though, Andrew thought. He took the hose while the Heavy took the pack. They ran together in the direction the Medic and Spy had gone. They were not as fast as either of them though, so it was difficult to catch up.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh saw only a narrow strip of the road ahead of himself. In the frustrating lack of air, he was losing more and more use of his body. If he kept running like this, his body might just quit. He could not risk slowing down or coming to a halt, as the Medic was just a few steps behind him with a bone saw.

He barely caught the sound of a Soldier’s voice calling after him. It caught him up as he thought about who it probably was. But, was he imagining it, or was it really Andrew? What would Andrew be doing there?

He turned his head, but did not catch sight of anything, before his foot caught a tree knob and his face hit the ground. He lost sight of the world, and then quickly turned himself over. He had no time to get away, as the Medic came down on him. He pinned Hugh down, not wanting to give him any room for escape.

Max’s breath was thick with the stench of morning breath. His grin spread from ear to ear, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. His bright eyes were alight with a fierce fire of burning rage that was decades old.

Max chuckled, a dark and fierce madness growing in his eyes, “Finally! A day for reckoning!”

“Medic!” the familiar roar of the RED Heavy caught the Medic by surprise. He must not have paid much mind to who was around him either.

Hugh reached for his knife in his pocket, but his hand was grabbed by the Medic’s. In a flurry of struggle, the saw fell to the side, as the Medic grappled with him. Hugh was surprised in himself, though maybe it was the fight or flight response that came from the threat of death, but he could not imagine that he was fairing very well, given the dehydration, lack of sleep and overall physical disadvantage. He was just not as large and heavy as the Medic, who had muscle built up from years of carrying around large men and medical packs.

“I have waited for this chance for a long time!” Max growled in his face, “I am not letting you get away so easily!”

Hugh tried to glance at the Heavy, but he could not see him at this angle. He decided to stall for time. Maybe the Heavy would help him out. The RED Heavy was not as vengeful a man as the Medic. If nothing else, he would be concerned with how violently his Medic was acting while they were not connected to respawn.

“I think not,” Hugh said, with firm confidence in his voice. He pushed back at the Medic, but his arms were too tired, too weak, to actually do anything.

“I am going to kill you,” Max growled with disdain, “And I am going to take great pleasure in it. And the best part?”

“Fuck you, you don’t have it in you for murder,” Hugh growled, tensing his arms for the last stretch of the Heavy’s run. The man needed to get into better shape so he could run a bit faster.

“There will be nobody to miss you!” the Medic laughed, maniacally.

A feeling of horror and dread sank in, despite himself. Hugh looked up at the laughing doctor with a feeling that was so unlike anything he had known. He was not particularly worried about not being remembered or even wept over when he died, but there was something about his words that still struck a chord with him.

“Mann Co will replace you like rotten meats!” the Medic snickered, “Nobody will even realize that _you_ were gone!”

“Hold it, doctor!” two hands reached out, grabbing the Medic under his arms.

The man saw his demise and snatched at the saw, by the time he started swinging, he could not reach the Spy, being lifted into the air. He was too far to reach his target, unable to stab the Spy. It infuriated him and made him thrash more as he argued with the Heavy, with whom he had allied for so many years. But, there was another figure, a man who had stepped in to check on the Spy.

He was not even paying attention to the Medic. He was not paying attention to the fact he was flailing wildly, with a saw in hand. Hugh looked on with horror. It felt like the world slowed down, just for the few moments that it happened. He should have leaped forward, he should have taken to defense, but for some reason he could not. He could not move before the saw sliced through soft flesh and let the Soldier slump to the ground.

Hugh cried out in horror, unable to believe what he was seeing. His mind spun wildly as he tried to reason with himself. When he got to his feet and checked the Soldier’s wounds though, the dread crept back to him. This time it was all too real. The dread held onto him and would never let go.


	18. To the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get Andrew to the hospital.  
> TIME TO GET MELISA TO THE HOSPITAL!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a guilty conscience. I am sorry. This is my apology. Okay, now to the story.

Dread filled Hugh as he tried to keep calm. He had to remain calm and keep up the look of a man who was indifferent to what was happening around him. Yet, deep inside, his heart was pounding out of its cage and he was starting to shake down to his fingers.

“Ack! No! Let me go! Let me go!” the Medic was shouting.

“You injured little Soldier!” the Heavy proclaimed.

“He is a BLU! They are both BLUs! They are our enemies!” the Medic flailed about, as the Heavy tried to keep him under control.

Hugh kept his shoulder to them, as if unconcerned that they were there. He kept his focus on Andrew, who stared back at him with wide eyed panic. He was gripping at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Hugh himself was trying to figure out what else he could do to stop the bleeding without having to leave the man’s side.

“Nyet, doctor,” the Heavy growled, “We have truce. We have peace agreement. Doctor must abide by truce. We do not attack BLUs.”

“You’re going to defend a BLU? Are you out of your mind?!” the RED Medic kicked at the Heavy’s leg.

“BLU does not have respawn out here. We do not have respawn out here,” the Heavy stated.

“That is the point of killing him now!” the Medic exclaimed.

“Nyet, you will calm down and think more rationally,” the Heavy commanded, “Then, you will be put down.”

“Fine! Fine!” the Medic growled, and the Heavy finally set him on his feet.

“You will heal little Soldier,” the Heavy commanded.

“Why?” the Medic scoffed.

“Because is friend, and we have truce with little BLU team,” the Heavy explained.

“Where is my medigun?” the Medic asked.

Hugh knelt by Andrew, tuning into the conversation while gaping at the blood that was soaking his leather glove. He begged and he pleaded in his mind that he could stop the blood, or that the doctor would move fast enough to rescue the Soldier. He minded his breathing patterns, careful not to reveal his panic. It was more for Andrew than anybody.

“That is very bad,” the Medic noted, as he peered over Hugh’s shoulder, “I’ll be back with my medigun. Heavy, help him stop the bleeding.”

The Heavy knelt next to Hugh and clasped his hands over Hugh’s, in an effort to double the effect of holding back the blood. Hugh could barely think anymore, counting away the seconds that he had. Andrew stared back at him, wide eyed and speechless, not that he could say much as blood started to seep into his lungs.

“What did you do to my medigun?!” the Medic called from the truck, in a shrill and angry voice.

“Medigun fell apart on its own!” the Heavy called back.

Hugh’s eyes never left Andrew. He was not hearing this. He was not hearing any of this, as if thinking that would help Andrew to not hear any of this either. Maybe he could deny it for both of them.

“Mediguns do not simply fall apart!” the Medic’s voice grew shriller.

“Doctor! Please come and help!” the Heavy called back, ignoring the man’s temper, “Little Soldier is losing much blood!”

The Medic growled loudly as he stormed towards them. He had a medigun in tow, one that had fallen apart. It looked like he could just pop a couple of parts together, but that would require a few tools that the man likely kept in his workshop area. Maintenance on medical equipment was never simple, after all.

“What do we do now?” the Heavy pleaded, as if for Hugh’s sake.

“Feh,” the Medic growled as he came to a stop near them, “He will be dead soon.”

“No!” Hugh barked, never raising his head. Andrew had closed his eyes, but he was too scared to tell him not to.

“No?” the Medic sounded confused by the response.

“You heard me!” Hugh finally lifted his head, turning his gaze up to the Medic, “He will not be dying here and now.”

“And what miracle are you going to commit? Tell me!” the Medic practically laughed, gleeful in his tone about the triumph over the Spy. Hugh was not a Medic, he would never understand the nuances of medicine.

However, he had been around the Soldier long enough to pick up a few things. One thing he knew that Andrew would always do was pick up a fellow soldier, even a mercenary looking out for himself – he would never leave a soldier behind. He was not about to give up and leave his Soldier behind.

Hugh pulled his hands out from under the Heavy’s, “Carry him to the ambulance. We will transport him quickly to the nearest city hospital.”

“City hospital?” the Medic laughed, “Are you mad? What do you think they will do that I cannot?”

“Try and save him,” Hugh moved out of the way as the Heavy lifted Andrew’s body.

Hugh headed quickly to the ambulance to start digging for medical supplies. He found what he needed, and as soon as Andrew was laid in the back, he began bandaging him. It was haphazard, but it was better than nothing. He was desperate for something to stop the bleeding.

“What happens now?” the Heavy asked him.

“Drive,” Spy commanded, “Drive until you reach a city, then find a hospital.”

The Medic growled beneath his breath, something inaudible in German. He hopped into the driver’s seat, just as the Heavy was about to climb in.

“I will drive,” the Medic shooed his Heavy away from the door, “I know my way to the next city hospital.”

“You do?” the Heavy looked a bit surprised but continued around the vehicle.

“Get in,” the Medic commanded, and the Heavy obeyed as quickly as his little legs could carry him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn raised his head as the RED Spy entered the room. His jacket had been discarded, revealing the vibrantly red shirt he wore underneath, along with the guns strapped to his person. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing old scars and pale white skin that had not seen the sunlight in years.

The man’s face held a haggard and exhausted look. This was understandable, considering he had been up for so many hours trying to get the RED Engineer to talk. He looked like he needed a coffee, so Glenn clambered out of his chair and headed to the BLU kitchen’s coffee pot.

The kitchen itself was a nasty mess. It did not used to be like this. But after the addition of nine new mercenaries, it seemed that nobody could keep up with chores anymore. Even when they did their weekly cleaning, the space remained an unsanitary mess for the duration of the week.

The Spy cleared his throat, as if to clear the air of silence, “Excuse me, amico. I was wondering if you had a lighter available.”

Glenn hesitated, searching his pockets to see if he had placed one there. Maybe he had one on him from the last time he smoked or something. Of course, he was avoiding smoking around Melisa, as she had complained about it lately.

“You out of light for your cigarettes or something?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” the Spy sighed. He gave him a grateful smile when he was handed a small red lighter. “But, my work is hardly done and I need a more useful tactic of questioning.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Glenn muttered, “Don’t get too creative!”

The Spy laughed at that, “No no! Don’t worry, amico! He is taking minimal injury!”

“I am not worried about _him_ ,” Glenn said, his fingers suddenly itching for a cigarette, just because he had been thinking about one, “I am worried about how Melisa feels about the screaming.”

“My apologies,” the Spy offered, with a genuine look of regret, “I will be sure to keep the volume down from now on. I did not intend to disturb the lady.”

Sniper nodded, though he kept a wary eye on the man. After having the suggestion thrown into the air, it seemed the Spy also got an itch for a cigarette. He was as adept as any Frenchman with the smoke, placing it between his lips and enjoying every bit of smoke that he managed to inhale.

He looked to the Sniper watching him, “Need a hit?” He offered the smoke to him.

“I don’t take ‘em used,” Glenn blushed. His mind went back to how Hugh was gay. What of this Spy was gay? What if all of the Spies were gay? What if one of the RED Snipers was gay? What if the other BLU Sniper was gay? Just thinking about all of this felt so weird and his body grew hot with embarrassment.

“No worries, amico,” the Spy reached into his pack and pulled out a fresh cigarette, offering it to the Sniper.

Glenn accepted the offer with muttered gratitude. He carefully leaned over as the Spy lit his cigarette. He puffed on it a few times before it took. It felt nice once it started taking effect in his brain.

“Feels nice to have a break,” the Spy admitted, looking down at the cigarette in his hand.

The sound of the coffee pot finishing up caught Glenn’s ear. That was when he remembered why he got up from his seat in the first place. He approached the pot and poured two cups of coffee. He was never good at making others’ coffee, mostly because other people were so damn picky, so he left the sugar and cream for the Spy to choose.

As the Spy went about making his coffee, a shuffling of bare feet caught Glenn’s attention. He was used to being wary of Spies, so he turned to the door they were coming to. He was surprised to find Melisa toddling into the mess hall, one hand on her belly, her hair a mess, half of it plastered to her head with her sweat, and her pajamas soaked in what he assumed was sweat.

“Glenn!” her voice was hoarse and came out as a half scream, “Glenn, I need to go to the hospital!”

“What? What is it?” Glenn asked, strolling hastily towards her. She looked like she had just woken from a nightmare and needed a hug.

“Glenn I’m bleeding!” her voice grew shrill.

That stopped him in mid-step, “What?”

“Glenn I have been in labor, and now I am bleeding! Get me to a hospital!”

“I…we have the infirmary,” he offered, taking her arm, “I am sure both Medics are well prepared t-”

Her fingernails dug into him as she took his arm firmly. Her glare was piercing as she gritted her teeth at him. She looked like she was ready to start a fight, and he did not like that look.

“Glenn, I spent months preparing,” she growled, “I set up a special doctor for prenatal care. I set up a special doctor and midwife. I have set my insurance up to handle my entire pregnancy and my child’s health. I am now bleeding, and my child _is not being born in this fucking base_!”

Glenn’s eyes widened as she spoke, both terrified and confused. He fumbled for a moment, stumbling over his words and his thoughts. He was not sure which way to go, whether to pick her up or to lead her by her arm. His panic caused him to simply stand there, trying to figure out what to do or say next.

“Amico? We should go to the hospital,” the Spy caught him off guard, causing him to flinch.

“Glenn?” her voice was softer now as she reached out to touch his arm.

“I- yea…let’s go. I will um…get the truck?” he offered, hoping she might just guide him. He felt so off guard and out of his mind that he needed her to tell him what to do next.

“A car? Amico? That is foolish. You will take her in the ambulance,” the RED Spy interrupted, stepping up next to Glenn with a mug of coffee in hand.

“We have an ambulance?” Glenn asked, his mind still stunned and spinning wildly.

“You would be more comfortable laying down, sí?” the Spy asked.

Melisa nodded in response, “I…yes that sounds better.” There was so much relief on her face that Glenn could not even fathom what she was going through.

The Spy nodded, “You two head outside, we will meet you out front. Please be as quick as you can. I am going to ask the Medics if there is a gurney.”

“I…you…wait…” the Sniper stammered.

“No time! Move quickly!” the Italian Spy was running, his mug discarded on the kitchen table, completely empty, “Your wife is in labor!”

“But she’s not my…” his voice trailed off when he felt Melisa’s grip on his arm tighten again. He tried to offer her comfort, as he guided her carefully through the halls to the main entrance.

Terror struck him as realization began to wash over him. She was in labor, which meant the baby was coming. He was going to see his baby soon. By the time they reached the main entrance though, a thick red stream had reached Melisa’s feet and was soaking her footsteps. A new kind of terror struck him as he realized he might never meet his baby and he might lose his girlfriend.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The weather had changed so dramatically. It had been partially cloudy only fifteen minutes ago. Now as Hugh looked out the back window of the ambulance, all he saw was a thick mat of rain obscuring the view of the road they left behind. He crouched next to Andrew, his hand gripping the Soldier’s hand tightly, lest he lost him forever. Though, he felt his entire body start to tremble whenever the thought of losing him actually came back. Andrew was already at the edge of death as it was.

He glanced over his shoulder at the two men in the front. He had tuned them out now, unable to care about what they were doing. They were talking, switching between Russian and English in hasty spats that varied from disgruntled apologies to distressed arguing. Neither seemed to even realize what Hugh was going through, seeing his position only as a BLU Spy who was looking out for his colleague.

Andrew was unconscious, so if there was anything more he wanted to say, he could not. There was no way of knowing if he could even hear what was going on around him. If Hugh were thinking logically, he would have decided that that was a stupid idea. But as thoughts of death wandered in and out of his mind, he thought about the wonders of the human mind, curious of this comatose state might allow Andrew to hear some last kindly words from Hugh’s mouth before his passing.

He held onto his hand though, unwilling to let go. Even if Andrew went without him, Hugh was not ready to physically let go of him. He was not sure he could handle it. Though, when they finally pulled up to a hospital, he realized that he would soon have to release the body, as paramedics came to pull the unconscious man from the apparently outdated vehicle.

The paramedics were confused, having never seen such an old vehicle. Some of them said they had seen pictures, but most of them thought that old ambulances like this would be in a junk yard. Still, they had been made aware that there was an unconscious man dying in the back, so they rushed to his aid.

The paramedics would not let Hugh follow the gurney that carried Andrew. They held their hands up defensively and motioned for the main entrance. Discouraged and brimming with dread, he sauntered off to follow the Medic and the Heavy. Staying at their heels, he blended into the background, finding himself easily disguised as attentions were drawn to the giant Russian and the obnoxious looking German with what they were calling a medical costume.

Of course there was an argument. The RED Medic was a proud doctor, and refuted every claim that it was a costume. He started yammering wildly about his experience and his abilities, until the Heavy finally pulled him away from the people who were partially humored and partially terrified.

Hugh just found himself quietly following them around the lobby until they finally managed to find suitable seats. Most had been taken up by the elderly and the sick. Sitting next to sick men who seemed to purposefully turn their heads and cough at the person next to them was simply not suitable.

And so they sat in the lobby, waiting for time to move forward, waiting for Andrew Swanson to be checked in by the paramedics, and waiting for somebody to give him what he needed to hear. By now, he had already accepted it. He already knew it was going to happen anyways, so there was not much use fighting it. All he needed was a confirmation from somebody, somebody who tried to save his life, even while he was on the brink of extinction.

He stared at his gloved hands for the longest time, being the only thing he could look at in contrast to the white wash walls and clock. Sure there was a television, but it was playing some awful children’s program, with stupid music and dancing puppets. The madness of staring a long time drove him to rub those hands over his face, at which point he had a thought. That thought bloomed and turned into an idea.

He would have felt so much dread at that idea in a normal setting. But when he looked at the clock to see that it was a quarter past three and he thought of Andrew’s impending death, he realized that there was not much reason for him to think logically anyways. What else did he have to live for? Survival?

He looked down at his suit and remembered his balaclava. If a lifetime, or an eternity, of simply surviving as a Spy in a suit and balaclava was the life he was destined for, then he was not sure he wanted it. Life did not have any sort of purpose without the passion that had spurned in him when he and Andrew began this soiree of romance. And who would be there to care that he died anyways? Nobody would even care that he had gone missing.

“Andrew Swanson?” a voice called out.

Hugh immediately rose to his feet, which cued the other two to do the same. They took the lead and Hugh followed, as they headed to the desk. At this point, the lady at the desk was confused about there being three of them, and how they were related to the man in question. She finally settled on letting them all in so they could speak with the doctor about Andrew’s condition.

Hugh wished he could go alone, but he had no energy to think of something ingenious to get himself in without the Medic and the Heavy, and without suspicion. There was a great chance that the doctor was going to tell them that the man was dead, and they were just back there to be given apologies on behalf of the staff for not being able to save him. At least it was more than the Medic they had had on hand had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this based on my experience with dealing with emergencies. Like, it is so stressful, that even if you are very healthy and full of energy, it can drain everything out of you.


	19. Down the Slippery Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn and Melisa have a few moments, while the Medics are trying to figure this shit out.

Glenn damned the weather. He damned the roads on which the ambulance tilted a little, side to side. He damned everything about this goddamn situation. He was mostly frustrated with what was happening to Melisa, but he felt like damning every other thing there was.

His hands held Melisa’s hand shakily. He crouched next to her, opposite of the small agile Medic, who was instructing her on how to breathe. Of course, going through fits of pain, she went through fits of screaming at the Medic to shut up and apologies for yelling at him. Glenn might have found it funny in any other situation, but right now he needed to breathe just as much as she did, as panic arose from the sight of blood on her feet.

“Just remain calm,” the Medic dug through the supplies available to him, “We should have some anesthetic in here somewhere.”

“Look in the cabinet closest to the door!” the other Medic called from the driver’s seat.

“Danke!” the smaller Medic called back as he shifted to the noted cabinet.

“You are _not_ putting drugs in me!” Melisa’s voice grew shrill. From the way her hand tightened, Glenn figured she was probably having another set of contractions.

“How else are we going to deal with your pain levels?” the small Medic scoffed.

Melisa gritted her teeth against a set of painful contractions, “They are getting stronger now! Aaaagh!”

“J-just…” Glenn looked from Melisa to the small Medic and back, “Just breathe…and um…just breathe and relax.”

“I’m trying!” she let out a pain-filled scream.

“I do not know what else I can do for her!” the small Medic was a little panicked as he searched through the cabinets for something to administer to the screaming woman.

“Try sedative!” the other Medic called from his seat up front.

“ ** _You watch the road_**!” Glenn shouted with frustration.

The ambulance swerved a little, as it sped along the wet forest roads. The mountains were just waiting for them to fuck up and crash, Glenn was sure of that. He was starting to question this idea, given the Spy had trusted the vehicle to the Medics – as a team – and had taken his own car to bring others.

“No narcotics! No drugs!” Melisa shouted with frustration.

The Medic growled with frustration, “What do you expect me to do? Use magic to heal you? I am a medical professional! What do you think the doctors there would give you?!”

It was strange that others were coming. Not everybody was coming, but the Italian RED Spy, the idiot Scout he worked with all these years, the Demoman tagged along, and even the BLU Spy was in that car. The only other person in the ambulance, whom he often forgot, was the older BLU Heavy, who quietly kept the Medic who was driving in line. He began to wonder where his friend was though. It was unlikely he ran into any real trouble while he was investigating the shooter at Melisa’s house, but what if he had?

Now that he thought about it – and it did bring a frown to his face – he kind of wished the other BLU Spy was there to share this experience with him. He wanted his friend there to help him through the stress. The man knew him too well, and that helped when he just needed a pal and a cigarette in the open fresh air. After what they had been through together in the past few years, it was safe for him to guess that the BLU Spy probably secretly wanted to be a part of this too.

He was always asking questions, not that this was an odd occurrence. But ever since Glenn told him about Melisa’s pregnancy, the Spy had been curious about little details. Glenn wanted a life outside of this war, away from Mann Co, with his precious Melisa and their little bundle of life. And so, the Spy always questioned where they would go, what they would do, sometimes even how he would share things with his child. Some of the more pressing ones were how Glenn as the father had lived for so long like he was, whether he would teach the kid to kill – that was out of the question, shooting animals was enough – and who would be the godparents.

He had yet to bring some of these questions up to Melisa. What time they had together, they usually spent in semi-bliss. Yet, now that he thought about it, he wanted Spy to be the godfather. He was sure that Melisa might disagree, given Spy’s weird temperament, tendency to kill people without question, and lack of experience with children. In fact, the man probably loathed kids.

That thought made him chuckle a little bit, and that got Melisa’s attention. “W-what are you thinking about?” she asked, sniffling through tears. She was quite the mess.

“I uh…” he paused, rubbing his neck with his free hand, “Was thinking about what Spy would say if he was here.”

“Oh?” she sniffled again, “What would he say?”

Glenn took a breath and put on his best fake French accent, “Such an amateur! Hold her like a gentleman! Don’t be such an idiot standing there! You have no idea what you are doing, do you?”

Melisa started to laugh. Tears still streamed down her face, but at least she was smiling now. She had watched them in her younger years, so while she may not trust Spy, he had a dear place in her heart. He imagined she really liked hearing things Spy might say if he was here.

He cleared his throat and started up again, going with an even thicker French accent, “You, mon ami, are a precious flower. And that will hardly change when this baby is born.” He pulled her hand to his mouth, planting a kiss – though it was in an awkward manner, rather than in that gentlemanly way. “Rest assured that everything will be fine,” he finished.

She giggled, “He wouldn’t say that!”

“Yea he would!” he argued, “I know he would!”

“No Glenn, he wouldn’t, not to me!” she laughed at him.

“No, he’s like that. He likes saying that weird gentlemanly shit,” he explained, “Just trust me on this.”

“No, those are words spoken by a true admirer,” she told him, her eyes flashing with something, “Or a lover.”

He smiled at her, “You’re right. It was me the whole time talking.”

She laughed some more as he bent to kiss her. She wrapped a free arm around his neck, holding him for a few moments before releasing them. When their eyes met again, they were both smiling. Their mouths were smiling and their eyes were joyous. He was glad that she was finally finding happiness in this time, since it was such an important moment in their lives.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The car sped ahead of the ambulance, taking the curves at a careful speed. What with the way the Medic was driving, Maurizio did not trust him to keep to the roads at a safe pace. As it was, they were going too fast, especially in the rain. They could easily crash and die, and that just would not do when they were trying to transport a pregnant woman having complications to the hospital.

Even Maurizio would not normally be driving this fast in the rain. The roads were all slippery, his car did not have four wheel drive or snow tires. There was no telling what could happen to them – or to his car – in this weather at this speed. He would not be doing this, if not for the panicked woman, whose pregnancy might come to an end in the worst way.

“You ever do racing and stuff?” Drake suddenly broke the silence. The young BLU mercenary was quite the curious man – especially when it came to Maurizio and cars.

“I used to be a racer, so yes,” he answered.

“Man, I didn’t know you raced cars!” Price interrupted, leaning forward over the front seat.

That made Maurizio flinch, “When the hell’d you get in here?” He looked in his rear view mirror to see Bleu on the passenger side, Joshua Forbes behind his seat, and Price squished in between.

“I have been here this whole time!” the scout exclaimed.

“He really has,” Bleu added.

“Aye! And watch where you’re driving, lad!” Forbes barked, “You’re making me sick!”

“I’ve got this,” Maurizio growled at him.

“So, about the cars thing,” Price bounced back, “Since when have _you_ been into cars?”

Maurizio growled with irritation. He was being interrogated by Scouts lately. While he enjoyed the attention, he did not enjoy the interrogation itself. He only just realized that he did not want to reveal so much about himself and his life before being a Spy. It was out in the open now, so he might as well share it anyways.

“Child, I was a racer before I became a Spy,” he said, with an indignant tone.

“That’s pretty cool,” Price noted, “And I am not a child!”

“So uh…what kind of cars have you driven?” Drake asked, “Like uh…muscle cars? Ferraris?”

“All kinds,” he chuckled, “In real races. In test races. I have done work for big companies and small. So, I have raced many beautiful cars, as well as several Ferraris.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye, just over his shoulder, at Bleu, who shot him a glare.

Bleu was not that into cars, but he did like Ferraris. It was the first nickname the RED had ever given to him, before he finally decided to drop the teasing. The Ferrari man did not like his nickname. Of course, if Bleu was remembering that nickname at this time, then perhaps he was thinking what Maurizio said was meant to be an innuendo. He smirked to himself as he thought, joke completely intended.

“Wish I could drive one of those,” Drake noted.

“You would crash and burn the thing!” Forbes proclaimed.

“Don’t you think you are driving rather fast?” Bleu interrupted.

Maurizio shot him a glare, “No, I am fine.”

“This is really fast lad,” Forbes agreed, “You really should slow down.”

Maurizio glanced through the rear view mirror at the ambulance, “At this point, slowing down would cause the ambulance to barrel right through us.” He turned his full attention back to the road before him. “We keep going as we are.”

Bleu sighed with irritation, “You are pointless.”

That stung, and made Maurizio’s grip on the steering wheel tighten. He hated these things that Bleu was saying to him. He hated him for being so cruel after so many years of love. After all, it was not as if the man did not still have his weak and vulnerable heart in the palm of his hand. And yet, he was beating at it like his life depended upon it.

“Just ignore him,” Drake threw his hand up in a rude gesture of dismissal, “You know these French turds. Always high class and shit. Everything’s gotta be their way and all about them, but they won’t give you an inch of room.”

Bleu did not respond to this, letting the Scout’s words go unheeded. If he thought pretending to ignore the boy’s words would be enough, he thought wrong. Maurizio laughed at what Drake said, and then enjoyed a momentary thought of how much seething anger must have been boiling beneath Bleu’s surface.

“How long until we get there, anyhow?” Forbes interrupted.

“Not sure,” Maurizio glanced in his rearview to double check on the ambulance. He would not risk losing it for a moment, lest the Medic drove it off the road without him knowing about it.

Suddenly, a banging interrupted them. All eyes turned towards the back window, as if expecting something to be banging on the glass.

“What the hell is that?” Price asked.

“Nothing,” Maurizio lied.

“What the? What the hell is it?” Drake exclaimed, turning around in his seat as the banging persisted.

“Is that…” Forbes had a perplexed look on his face, pointing at the cushions of the back seat, “Is that what I think it is?”

“Oh no,” Bleu groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Maurizio, you didn’t!”

“Of course I did,” Maurizio argued, “I don’t have time to spare.”

“We are going to a hospital! We are going into the city where there are people!” Bleu exclaimed, “You cannot bring a captive into the city like this!”

Maurizio laughed, “Why not, do you think?”

“You are going to get us arrested,” Bleu groaned.

“No I am not, a little air in the trunk of a car will do him some good,” Maurizio joked.

Bleu groaned at him. Forbes kept looking confused. Both of the Scouts also looked confused, but they continued to question what was going on.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Antoine was relieved when he finally got out of the offices. It was very late though now, so there was not much he could do. He could just go back inside and sleep for a while. He would not have much time for sleep if he tried to find a place, but that was still an option. He would otherwise have to start up his work at this odd hour, during which his body was insisting that he should be asleep.

Worry hit him though. Miss Pauling was nowhere to be found, but why? What was she doing? Had she been taken? That seemed to be the more likely answer. Perhaps she had been kidnapped – but that did not explain why Mann Co professionals were being killed in efforts of keeping her from being taken back to Mann Co. Granted, perhaps many of them had become out-of-practice over the years.

He decided that he would not get far with any kind of investigation if he did not get some sleep. When he looked back at the building, he decided that he also did not want to go back inside. He would settle for spending an hour or so and about a hundred bucks on a place to sleep for the night. But, then he realized that he did not have his car, he left it at the control center.

A gentle breeze and a light sprinkle of water came upon him when he stepped out of the safety of the overhang of the building. He would be walking from here, if he did not want to sit there and wait for a taxi to drive him. This might just take a bit longer, which meant he might have to settle for the first place he came to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Alhwin, they expect you to use magic. Now get out your wand and magical book and get to work!  
> Also, I was giggling my ass off over the idea of Sniper trying to mimic the Spy.  
> Maurizio drives Bleu, Forbes, Drake and Price to the hospital with them. Oh yea, and somebody in the trunk.


	20. Heavy Feet and Heavy Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medics try to take care of Melisa.  
> Hugh has to deal with a childish Medic.  
> Maurizio traumatizes himself.  
> Antoine finds Miss Pauling.

“How may I help you?” a small rotund dark woman asked from behind the counter. She gave them a big toothy smile.

“We are here on behalf of…” the Medic got a bewildered look as he realized that he did not know the patient’s name.

“Andrew,” the Heavy filled in for him.

The woman started typing on her computer, her fingers moving effortlessly without her having to look at them, “What’s that last name, sweetheart?” She gave them a curious look, her eyes jumping from one man to another.

“Swanson, Andrew Swanson,” the Spy sighed.

The Medic turned to the Heavy, lowering his voice and switching to rough Russian, “Well, it is a good thing we have a Spy around then.” He was glaring a little bit through his eyelashes.

The Heavy shook his head, unamused at Maxwell’s comment, “No, don’t be like that.”

“He knows, you idiot, I am telling you!” the Medic hissed.

Hugh would have raised an eyebrow to that, but he did not have the energy. He was sapped, saving just enough for what was going to happen next. He stepped around the counter as the woman rose from her chair.

“Right this way,” she motioned for them to follow her down a hallway.

Hugh stayed right at her heels, but the other two trailed far behind. He glanced briefly in their direction, but did not spare them much attention. It was mostly just for old habits that were laden with paranoia. The Spy in him would never die, not so long as he was alive. Though, the more he thought about living, the more he felt like he was going to die once he heard the news about Andrew.

“Here we are,” she passed several beds, where family members were comforting injured and sick patients. She paused to pull open a curtain to reveal Andrew laying on a bed.

Still unconscious, he looked like he was dead already. Hugh could see that there was at least somebody trying now though. Machines were latched to him, making loud beeping noises and reading his vitals. Somebody was trying to keep him alive, if nothing else.

“The doctor will be by shortly,” the woman said, “At the moment the patient is unconscious, but the doctor requested to speak with a relative.”

“We’re not-” the woman seemed to ignore the Medic’s words, as she headed back towards her desk.

The Medic sighed and pushed back the front of his hair. A large hand patted his shoulder, as the Heavy offered him a couple of words of encouragement. Sure, things would be alright for them, neither of them were attached to this man. When Hugh stepped towards the bed, he thought he would collapse.

Maybe it was the beep beeping that seemed to read out the man’s heart rate. Maybe it was the sight of his sleeping form that seemed so deathly. Whatever it was, it made his entire body want to tremble and shake with the exhausted emotions that wanted to pour forth over the bed.

The Medic suddenly chuckled, which startled both the Spy and the Heavy. “Funny, if I did not know any better, I would think that you had started caring about your colleague’s wellbeing. Perhaps next I will actually see tears from your eyes,” the Medic chuckled at him.

Hugh stared at him for a long time. He felt bewildered, the words rolling in his head until they made no sense to him anymore. English made no sense to him anymore. He did not need English though, he just needed his thoughts and a few more minutes or hours with Andrew.

“Why would you say these things?” the Heavy said, with a tentative tone, “Is not good time to say such things.”

The Medic frowned up at him, “With his blackened heart?”

Hugh went silent, turning back to Andrew. He tuned the other men out. He did not want to be a part of this banter anymore. This was not what he was here for. He could not handle the comments on himself, when he was trying to fight with the reality that was strewn out before him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

A car started rumbling up the other direction. It was not a small car though, it was a fairly big truck. Seeing as it had Mann Co painted all over it, Maurizio could see that it was headed towards their base, though it had yet to make the turn.

“What? Where’s that truck going?” Drake asked.

“That can’t be real,” Price leaned over the seat, “A Mann Co truck?”

He saw Bleu exchanged a terrified look with Forbes. Whatever the case, Maurizio needed to focus on driving. They were still going pretty fast, and that truck was about to make their turn. If that truck made the turn now, they would have a traffic jam in which they would have to sort everything out, before the ambulance could move on. That was if their brakes sufficed and they did not all skid right into the truck and die.

There was one trick Maurizio knew though, one that would stop the truck and give the ambulance some room to keep rolling. It was a risky move, given how slippery the roads still were, but since it had stopped raining, perhaps it would be a bit easier. He would just have to try and avoid puddles.

“Slow the car down,” Bleu reached forward to tap Maurizio’s shoulder.

“Calm down, Réne, Maurice has got this,” Price insisted.

“Yea, let the man drive,” Drake chuckled.

Neither of them knew what was about to happen next. Maurizio thought that if they did, they would immediately start to protest. They would be very angry with him after this, but he would be glad to see the ambulance keep on going.

“Tighten your seatbelts and hold onto your hats,” Maurice announced as he shifted up. The car sped ahead, moving away from the ambulance as it barreled towards the turn that the truck was preparing to take.

“Maurice! You are going to get us killed!” Bleu shouted, returning to his seat to brace himself.

“I told you to hold onto your hats!” Maurice shouted, as he shifted and swerved. The car spun, maybe a little farther than it would have if the ground were not so slick.

The car came to a skidding halt with voices screaming with fear. When it stopped, so did the truck, which emitted a loud horn. Maurizio looked out to see the ambulance speeding around the turn. He honked at it, hoping that the Medics would find their way to the hospital speedily with their precious cargo.

“What the hell, man?!” Drake got a hold of his shirt and yanked him around, “You almost killed us!”

“I think you killed Price…and Réne’s family jewels,” Forbes added.

Maurizio looked over the seat to see that Price had left his seatbelt off. The spin had thrown him around and he had fallen face first into Bleu’s lap, with his backside upwards. With his face buried, there was no sign of apparent life, and Bleu’s face had turned white as a sheet.

Maurizio could not hold back the inevitable laughter. He had to bang on the steering wheel and howl with all his might at seeing his ex-lover, a man so cruel without reason, completely humiliated where it hurt most. The look on his face was even perfect, along with how stunned Price seemed to be.

Eventually he heard Bleu talking, “Get this Scout out of my lap.”

“Hold still, boy’s probably stunned,” Forbes lifted the body, pulling him off of Bleu.

Maurizio’s attention was caught by a gasp. Then the door opened. The drivers of the truck did not seem concerned with them, trying to back out of their current position. So, he decided not to be concerned with the truck either. He hopped out of the car to help Forbes, only to find him dragging Price’s dead body out.

Maurizio stared, stunned at what he was seeing. Drake and Bleu came out, one freaking out that Price was dead, and the other assessing how he had died. According to Bleu, the boy died quickly when his head hit the front seat, probably due to the fact that he was not wearing a seatbelt.

While Drake ran off to have a freak out elsewhere, and the Scotsman drank to the youth’s memory, Maurizio merely stood there. Stunned, he could not bring himself to terms with what was happening in front of him. He had told them to buckle up. He had instructed them to be safe, but they had not listened.

He had gotten cocky. He had gotten quick with the pedal and wheel. He had whipped that boy around like he was a wet noodle. He killed Price.

Not like he had not killed Price before. On the battlegrounds, the young man was a prime target for a Spy that could get to him. Price was never too careful when it came to Spies.

But, this was different. This was almost worse. He did not intend to kill Price at all. He did not intend for any of this. Yet, Price would never wake up.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“There goes our assistance,” Dr. Frederick muttered with a sigh.

Alhwin tried to shrug off the fact that they were barreling down a wet road at breakneck speed. They were going too fast, and if not for whatever trick Maurice had just pulled, they would have crashed into that truck. There was no way this old Ambulance was equipped with brakes strong enough to have stopped in time for that.

“Breathe, darling,” the Sniper was whispering softly to his lady.

Melisa had finally calmed down. She had simmered down to crying every time the contractions got bad, but at least she was not screaming. She held onto the Sniper like he was a lifeline though, something that probably led him to discomfort, considering the awkward position he was holding his bird-like lanky form in.

“Let’s see,” Alhwin dug through the cabinets, hastily searching for a solution.

“Doc, you got anything for the pain that isn’t drugs?” the Sniper asked, raising his head to look up at him.

“I am a man of _medicine_ , Sniper! I administer medicine! Medicine is drugs!” he flung his arms about with exasperation. How frustrating that his patient refused treatment.

“I-it’s fine. It’s fine,” Melisa muttered softly, “It is manageable now.”

“You don’t look too good,” Sniper muttered. He raised his head to speak to the Medic, “She does not look good. Please help.”

“I am trying! I am trying!” Alhwin said, as he searched through the cabinet for an idea.

What was he even looking for? He could not say for himself, he was in a frenzied panic, trying to remember all of those years back when he studied the human anatomy in medical school. That had been to become a doctor, and not the kind that caught newborns.

“What about your medigun?” the Sniper pleaded.

“It will not do much at this time,” he offered, “It is a drug in its own right, you know.”

When he turned to look at them, he realized that Melisa had passed out. He crouched to check her pulse. She did not seem okay in the slightest, that much the Sniper was right about. He pulled her pajamas up her leg to get a better look, only to find that they were utterly soaked, partially with blood.

“Fuck,” Alhwin muttered, “We do not have blood for a transfusion at this time!”

“What are you saying, doc?” the Sniper pleaded.

“I do not have anything to fix her with!” Alhwin responded with that same exasperated tone.

“You did not even try the medigun!” the Sniper scoffed.

“You want me to try the medigun? Fine! I will try the medigun!” Alhwin growled as he picked up the pack and turned it on Melisa.

“I already tried it, Sniper,” Frederick called from the front, “It won’t work. Not on those injuries.”

“What injuries though?!” the Sniper pleaded.

“We are dealing with the female body, Sniper,” Alhwin explained, raising a hand to emphasize his words, “A woman’s reproductive organs. The most intensely different part of the body from the male.”

“Doc,” the Sniper interrupted him, “You’re a Medic.”

“And I have spent the past half a century practicing on the male anatomy,” Alhwin explained.

The Sniper’s face grew red at that, “You have to know something! You have to be able to do something!”

Alhwin gave him a firm shrug, which felt really strange, “There is not much I can do. I am not a prenatal caregiver. I am not a gynecologist or anything like that either.”

“Come on!” the Sniper’s eyes filled with tears, “You gotta know something? What did they teach you about in medical school? Just dicks and hearts?”

Alhwin sighed with irritation. He pushed his feelings aside though, as he tried to see this from the other man’s perspective. He was desperate, he would pull out any insult he had.

“I have not studied in the past half a century or so,” Alhwin explained, “So believe me, they did teach these things. But I have not practiced. They do say that practice makes perfect, but they do not mention that it also forms memory.”

“Doc, please,” the Sniper begged.

Alhwin was silent for a few moments. He looked down at Melisa with a feeling of sadness. He felt really bad that he could not do anything for her condition. She had lost so much blood that the pain was not even what was bothering him anymore. It was most likely the baby was already dead and the mother was next. If he did not concoct a miracle soon, then things would soon go to shit.

“Here, take the wheel,” he heard Frederick say, as he clambered out of the seat.

The RED Heavy yelped with surprise as the ambulance swerved. He leaped for the seat, having to cram himself in, then scoot the seat forward for his short legs. As soon as the Russian was behind the wheel, the driving felt much smoother. Maybe he should have been driving from the get go, but who could have known he could drive better than the taller Medic?

“Take that vial off the medigun,” Frederick motioned to Alhwin.

“What?” he switched to German.

“I said take it off,” Frederick motioned to the medigun again, this time speaking German with him.

“What are you thinking?” Alhwin asked, his hands removing the vial by route memory.

“We are going to practice medicine,” Frederick stated.

“Doc, what are you going to do?” the Sniper asked, in a pleading voice.

“I just told Alhwin,” Frederick switch to English with a disgruntled tone, “We are going to practice medicine. Now sit down and shush!”

Alhwin spoke in quiet German, despite knowing that the Sniper knew nothing of the language, “Do you have a plan?”

The man gave him a look of uncertainty and sadness, “I have no idea what I am doing. I am just trying to stall for time.”

Alhwin winced at that answered, but nodded in understanding. He quickly unscrewed the vial and handed it over. The other Medic took a good deep look at the swirling liquid, which sloshed about with the movement of the vehicle.

“She is losing blood quickly,” Alhwin stated.

“I do not have anything for that,” Frederick noted.

“What about the child? What should we do about it?” Alhwin asked, pleading for some form of guidance. He felt at such a loss, now that his colleague was also in his predicament.

“Don’t worry,” Frederick’s hands started moving quickly as he searched the cabinets, moving things around searchingly, “We are in this together. Now let’s get started.”

Alhwin nodded and hopped to the other side of the ambulance. He started digging through the cabinets there. A vial dropped right out with the vehicle slowing to turn, but he managed to catch it with a quick snatch. He looked at the substance, reading the label. It was one of the other Medic’s custom concoctions, with the ingredients listed in sloppy German.

“What is this?” Alhwin asked, noting the chemical compounds. He had never thought of such a mixture before, but something clicked in his mind.

Before Frederick could answer, Alhwin was already fishing out more ingredients. He felt like a scientist, or at least a grade school chemist, as he started mixing bits of mixtures together in a piece of Tupperware meant to contain contaminated materials.

“What are you doing?” Frederick asked, sticking to German. Neither of them wanted the Sniper aware that they had no idea what to do about this situation.

“This chemical compound you have made,” he set the fallen vial back in its place, then brought his mixture to the medigun, “It has given me an idea. I think this may help. Let’s mix this into the main vat and see if it works.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Frederick asked.

Both of their gazes went to the Sniper, who looked at them with confusion and uncertainty. His eyes searched theirs for answers. The newfound attention immediately caused his hand to twitch, ready to grab at his kukri.

When they turned to each other, they were of the same mindset when they said, “Test subject one.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Antoine was surprised to stumble upon the motel so quickly. He was relieved though, despite its run down and ruddy look. It had that ghetto flare that painted the outer walls of one building, along with the look of something that had not been tended to with proper cleaning care in over a decade.

He was more surprised when he stepped into the main office to find none other than Miss Pauling. What was she doing here? How did she get here? When did she get here? How had nobody else found her?

He was still reeling from the surprise when she turned to him. She seven times as surprised and physically reeled back, when she saw him. She began to pant and sweat, her eyes searching for an escape.

“Miss Pauling,” he spoke carefully.

“How did you? I haven’t even-! I-I-” her voice trailed off in panicked pants as she tried to figure out what to do now.

“Miss Pauling,” he chose his words carefully, “You are alright?”

“Y-yes,” she said, with carefulness in her words.

“There is nobody holding you hostage?” he asked.

“N-no,” she said, with a small shake of her head. The fear was still there though, as her eyes darted around, her lids a bit wider than they should be.

“Have you been visited by other Spies recently?” he asked.

She paused, pondering his question. She looked from him to the ground and back, “Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” he asked.

She bit her lip at that, her eyes darting towards the door. She knew better than to run. She knew he would be fast enough to catch her, and nimble enough to end her, if he really wanted. He did not want to do that, all he wanted was answers.

She seemed to reluctant to answer, so he decided to push a little bit. “Miss Pauling, two Spies sent to find you have turned up dead,” he stated, “The rest have either failed or respawned.”

“I killed one,” she admitted, “But he should have respawned.”

“Who killed the others?” he asked, his tone soft and careful.

“I…er…” her voice trailed off as the door opened behind him. He turned halfway to see the Russian Spy. She took Antoine in with one haughty look, starting from his leather shoes and ending at the openings of his mask. “D-don’t fight,” Pauling said, with hesitation.

“I was not intending to, until he made his move,” her voice was low and predatory. She seemed like an animal that was stalking her prey.

“You? You knew where she was?” Antoine asked, a bit bewildered.

The Russian Spy shrugged, “What fool of a Spy could not figure it out? This is not exactly a difficult motel to find.”

“To what purpose?” he demanded.

“See? This is where we get, and then I stab you,” she pulled out her butterfly knife.

“Don’t!” Pauling raised her voice, with firm command.

“I have no intention of fighting you,” he raised his hands. They were empty, but that did not mean the blade up his sleeve was not already ready to do harm. “I am simply here to be sure Miss Pauling is okay,” he lied. He was not here for her, he had come here to sleep.

“You found her rather quickly,” the Russian Spy noted.

“And you have kept her hidden. For what purpose?” he asked.

“Mann Co has enemies,” Miss Pauling interrupted, “Mann Co’s enemies often originate from the inside, these days.”

“And what does that mean?” he asked.

“It means, I am being chased off,” she explained, “Somebody is trying to usurp the Administrator.”

“I noticed her handiwork on some things,” he noted.

“Forgeries, I am sure,” she stated, “The Administrator would not be trying to thwart _my_ work. She does not even do anything with the company anymore. She is basically retired!” Miss Pauling gave a long and exhausted sigh. Perhaps she had recounted this to near two dozen other Spies. “She has her place in the Bahamas, to drink her martinis and get rich off of the compensation for utilizing her voice.”

The Russian Spy cleared her throat and stepped towards him. He immediately grew wary, getting into a defensive stance. He was ready to grab any weapon he needed for this.

“So, I am guessing your mission is to return Miss Pauling to Mann Co’s headquarters?” she asked, “You are going to try and take her back there?”

He turned his head back to Pauling, considering her for a moment. She looked shaken and scared. Nothing she had said seemed out of place for her. In fact, it seemed realistic that this was the truth. Taking her back to Mann Co then could be a death sentence.

“No,” he answered simply, “My task was to make sure she was alright. I can see that she is. I will be leaving.” He turned to the main counter, where a half asleep clerk was startled out of his slumber.

“I thought you said you were leaving?” Miss Pauling asked.

“In the morning,” he said, as the man handed him a room key, “I am going to get some sleep before I have to go back and get my fucking car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Price.  
> Poor Maurizio.  
> Fuck you Max.  
> Poor Hugh.


	21. Stalling for Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People keep stalling for time.

“They are stalling,” the Medic reentered the area, with the Heavy trailing close behind. The big Russian man stayed outside of the curtain, self-aware that he was a very big presence. The Medic went silent though, as he stared at the Spy seated next to the Soldier.

Maybe it was the sullenness, the feeling that there was a grave death happening. Maybe he actually thought heavily of death once in a while, and it was hitting him that somebody was on his last bed. Or perhaps it was seeing the Spy seated there, never leaving the sight of the Soldier, lest he lost a few of the man’s last breaths.

The silence went on for what seemed like an eternity. Still, Hugh never touched it. He did not care to try and make conversation with either of the other men. They did not have to or need to be there. They had done their part, and that was all. Neither would or could do anything more anyways, so why they were there was beyond the Spy.

Strangely, it was the Heavy who cleared up the silence, coughing to open up his throat. Spy noted him nudging the German forward out of the corner of his eye. The Medic turned to shoot him a glare, before he turned back to the Spy.

“You uh…” the Medic hesitated, stepping forward just a little more, “You seem a bit humbled by death in this…instance.”

Hugh listened but he did not respond. He did not even raise his head. What was the point of a conversation with somebody who considered him an arch enemy? What was the point of pretending he was still going to live?

“Spy, goddammit, speak to me!” the man barked angrily. He switched to irritated German. “This goddamned idiot is trying my patience! Who does he think he is?”

That brought a tiny smile to Hugh’s lips. It was nice to know he could still irritate the RED, even if it no longer mattered to him. It might have been the last time he would frustrate his enemy.

“Spy?” the German pressed forward with another small step.

“There is no reason for you to be here,” Hugh did not look at him, but he did straighten up, “You can go.”

“Spy,” the RED hesitated, looking between the patient and the man sitting next to him. His tongue flickered out to wet his lips. “Prostakov insists that we stay,” the Medic explained, “Says he is friends with the…uh…Soldier.” The Heavy nudged the Medic from a distance, this time to get his attention. “Yes, yes, I know,” the Medic gestured at the Heavy.

“I don’t care either way,” the Spy stated, firmly.

Medic cleared his throat, “I…Spy, I am sorry. I did not know that you were dear friends with the Soldier. I have handled this quite cruelly. I have been out of sorts, and even with an enemy I should not act so brashly about this.”

That got Hugh’s attention. He could not help but look at the Medic. His tone was so authentic, it was pleasing to hear the apology. Yet, when he looked at the man’s face, he realized that it was not true. The man’s face gave him away, just from the way he was twitching. These were words from the Heavy, the man who made friends with Andrew, not from the Medic himself.

“Bullshit,” the Spy noted, “You are a man of cruelty. You are unapologetic for it. Just get out.”

“I am only trying-” the Medic tried to argue, but Hugh was having none of it.

He leaped to his feet and pointed towards the door, past several other patients’ beds, “Just get out!”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Maurizio sat in the passenger seat hugging himself. After having checked on the RED Engineer, who was tied with duct tape and stuffed in the back, they had gotten back on the road again. This time Bleu was driving. The man was a careful driver, patient and kind to the controls. Maurizio could appreciate the man’s gentle nature, as he handled the vehicle with such care.

He had moved the Engineer to the back seat now, stuffed between Drake and Forbes. Neither of the BLU mercenaries touched the man, but they looked ready to beat the shit out of him if he tried anything. Dooley did not look alright though. He looked like he might throw up or pass out, having hit his head pretty hard during the spin.

The miscalculation on his part had been the fact that there were other people in the vehicle, about whom he cared about. Once upon a time, in racing, those in the vehicle would either be wearing appropriate safety gear, or they would be people he did not much care for. But, now Price’s body was riding in the trunk of his car, and Dooley sat in the backseat with a bleeding concussion.

His shame stretched through his mind as he curled up in his passenger seat. He still felt so much shock throughout his body that Forbes had suggested he drink some sugar water. Being a Spy, he had learned to put on a mask, so the one he put on was nonchalant and laughed about how Price had not put on a seatbelt. It was the boy’s fault for not taking the precautions as Maurizio had stated them.

It was not Price’s fault he was dead though, it was Maurizio’s fault. He hugged himself tighter as the thought ran through his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bleu taking note of his current state, protected from the men in the back only by the seat he was seated in. He did not really care if the BLU Spy saw though, the man was no threat.

When they pulled up to the hospital, Maurizio pulled himself together. The others prepared to get out from the back, but they were trying to figure out what to do with Dooley. Bleu seemed unconcerned about their captive now.

Bleu turned to Maurizio and spoke in Italian, “Are you alright?”

Maurizio put on his haughtiest look as he straightened his tie, “Never better.”

“Do not lie to me. That is bullshit,” Bleu retorted.

“How would you be?” Maurizio asked, before they stepped out of the car. Neither of them spoke while the Demoman and the Scout stuffed the Engineer in the trunk with the dead Scout.

They headed inside and started asking questions at the counter. They could not find anything out though, because they only knew the names Melisa and Glenn. The security guard would not help by listing all of the possible Melisas in the building.

When they retreated, Bleu turned to Maurizio, “Create a distraction for the guard.”

Maurizio nodded, knowing that Bleu wanted to get the information off the computer. He motioned for the Scout to follow as he headed towards a hallway they were not supposed to enter. He would make the best fucking distracting any of them had ever seen, and Scout would be there to help.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“I cannot believe this is working,” Alhwin mumbled in German, as he followed the gurney with the medigun. The paramedics were shocked at seeing how the gun worked.

“I know, it is interesting,” Frederick noted in kind.

“We shall have to test its abilities on the field,” Alhwin added.

Delight filled the taller Medic’s eyes, “A field test! Yes! That is an excellent idea, my friend!”

“What are you two talking about?” the Sniper interrupted their conversation.

“No guests and family beyond this point,” a paramedic stopped them, “Please go through the main entry.”

“This machinery is keeping her _alive_ you fool!” Alhwin barked at the man.

“Step aside and let the Medic do his job!” Frederick pushed through the paramedic, giving Alhwin room to continue onwards, before the stream of blue healing could break off.

At this point, he kept his back erect and his posture firm. Nobody else from there on questioned his presence. Maybe it was the lab coat. Maybe it was his commanding posture. Whatever it was, the nurses and doctors just assumed he belonged there.

When a doctor working at the hospital came to her aid, he started asking questions. Alhwin answered them as best as he could, allowing Melisa to answer certain questions he did not know. He had not been tending to how often her contractions occurred, after all.

The doctor then tried to have Alhwin leave. He even offered a nurse as an escort. Alhwin did his best to stand firmly where he was, ready to defend his position with his patient. But, then Melisa spoke up.

“He is my doctor!” she spat, “He stays!”

The doctor exchanged a look with the nurse. They looked at her, asking if she was certain about that decision. There was a little bit of hesitation before she affirmed the answer.

She was moved to a comfortable room, where Alhwin immediately began setting up the available chairs to hold equipment so he could use his hands. The woman was growing a bit pale in the face though, so he stopped to ask if she was alright.

“You are not my baby’s doctor,” she told him, “You are not birthing my child, Medic.”

He laughed, “Not to worry, I will stay on the sidelines. I am just needing to be prepared in case of complications.”

“Complications?” worry hit her voice, “But of course! You bled so much! It is highly likely there are complications concerning the baby.”

“Oh dear,” she sighed and dropped back where she sat.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Find what we needed?” Maurizio asked, as he rejoined the group with Scout. The youth was sweating and panting heavily. He was also red in the face.

“That and then some,” Bleu was scanning over something he had written on.

“What is it?” Drake asked, through his panting.

“I believe I have found Melisa, as there is only one in the birthing wing. But, I also found Andrew Swanson,” Bleu explained.

“Andrew?” Maurizio felt a little shocked. What was the BLU Soldier doing here?

“Who?” Drake asked, flabbergasted.

“Soldier,” Forbes stated.

“S-Soldier?” the boy muttered with uncertainty.

“Let’s not waste time,” Maurizio stated, “Let’s get going.”

“Wait a second,” Forbes interrupted, “We hafta check on the Soldier too. If he is the one checked in, that would be important.”

“Right,” Bleu nodded in response. He turned to Maurizio and Drake, “Maurice, you are with me. Drake go with Forbes.”

Maurizio nudged the Scout, “Trade me.”

“Maurice, stop it!” Bleu spat, angrily.

“What? Can’t deal with me, Réne?” Drake barked at the BLU Spy, irritably.

“It is not that, it is his attitude,” Bleu motioned to Maurizio.

“Come off it lads!” Forbes tried to intervene.

“I will behave how I like,” Maurizio responded, stubbornly.

“Fine then,” Forbes threw his hands up in the air.

“You know what? I don’t even wanna go there,” the Scout folded his arms, being as stubborn as Maurizio, “I’ll stay right here. Fuck you guys.” Maurizio chuckled a little at that, given the youthful mercenary’s attitude was endearing.

“Fine,” Bleu growled, “You two stay here. I am going to see about Melisa. Joshua, go see about Swanson.” He exchanged nods with the Demoman before the two headed off in different directions.

Maurizio turned to Drake, “Thank you, Scout.”

“Ah…hey, no problem!” Drake smiled.

Maurizio studied him thoughtfully. The Scout was really cute. It was a shame he gave off the vibe of being a stereotypical straight-as-they-come Boston badass. The badass part was nice, but he thought of how much fun it would be to have an actual date with this one. They both liked cars, and especially speedy cars, so it was not a stretch to think that they would get along very well.

“Y-you can call me Drake, by the way,” the Scout offered.

Maurizio offered, “Alright. And you can call me Maurizio.”

“Maurishio?” the Scout fumbled.

That made him laugh with delight, “Okay, just call me Maurice then.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Antoine woke early in the morning and went over to check on Miss Pauling. After explaining again that he had no intentions on betraying her, he exchanged passing greetings with the Russian Spy and headed off to meet with a taxi.

After arriving at the control room, he felt a little unsettled. There were tire marks in the mud, where a vehicle had parked. It looked like it could have been the RED Medic’s ambulance, but the marks were from peeling out. Somebody had left in a hurry.

He found everything left unlocked and open in a haphazard manner. Everything was left as if it had not mattered. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to send Max after Hugh after all.

He started searching the building, looking for signs of a fight or even blood. When he found nothing he proceeded to the main control room. The room was put out of sorts though. He did not understand it at first, heading to a strange beeping noise. When he got there, he realized what this was, a distraction trap.

He turned to study the room, noting how it was aligned so that somebody could move around without being seen by somebody who had just entered. It was perfectly structured so that Hugh could have escaped without Max seeing him, so long as Max stayed distracted by the monitor.

His attention came to one of the other computers though, one that was still running and looked like it had been used the most by the other Spy. When he touched the keyboard, the monitor lit up, holding a series of documents with signatures. He did not remember seeing any of these before, ones with Miss Pauling’s signature and one’s with the Administrator’s signature. This was more than he had had before, this was proof that the Administrator was trying to thwart Pauling’s work.

Why was beyond him. The reason behind this was something he did not care about. What he did care about was that this plan would lead to some dead mercenaries that he was in charge of.

He started printing everything. Somebody would be by soon enough to erase information from the computers, but he would need hard copies to show the evidence. He was not yet sure who he was going to show this to, but time would tell him later.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Joshua Forbes was surprised to walk into the room written down to find not only the BLU Soldier hooked up to machines, but the other BLU Spy, a RED Medic and a RED Heavy. None of them were even being supervised. How had they even gotten there together?

“Just get out!” the Spy was yelling, “I do not need to hear your lingering reminders about what is happening!” His eyes suddenly caught Forbes and he suddenly remembered his composure.

“The hell happened here?” Joshua asked, feeling stunned.

“Hello, Demoman,” the Heavy greeted him, with a thick and raspy tone.

Joshua bobbed his head in greeting as he stepped towards the BLU Spy. The man had composed himself rather well, in spite of the recent spat of anger he displayed. It was not unlike him to be completely composed, but seeing the resting yet dying body on the table, Joshua began to question if the man was still holding it together.

“The hell happened to Soldier?” he demanded.

The Spy gestured and he turned to look at the RED Medic. The RED Medic looked at the Heavy, who gestured to him.

“Me? Don’t look at me!” he proclaimed.

“It was your hand, on your saw,” the BLU Spy argued, with a haughty and aloof tone. He was distancing himself a lot from the situation.

Joshua glanced between the BLU Spy and the REDs, “I don’t care who did it. What’s wrong with ‘im?”

His demands were hesitantly thought about before the Spy spoke, “He is slowly bleeding to death.” The Spy shot the Medic a glare before he continued, “The Medic’s medigun seems to have been fiddled with at some point.”

“Where the hell were you? Where’s the RED Spy? You two left together!” Joshua felt very confused at the missing presence.

“Considering his body vanished, I would say respawned by now,” the Spy shrugged.

“Respawned? You killed him?” the Medic asked, bewildered at the explanation.

“That was over twenty four hours ago,” the Spy stated, gesturing dismissively.

“But I spoke to him on the radio not a few hours ago,” the Medic argued.

“Then it is safe to presume that he is alive and well,” the Spy said, dryly, “Well done.”

The dry and rude undertone was not lost on the RED Medic, as he scowled, “How did he respawn from all the way out there? And what was he doing there with _you_ of all people?”

“That is classified,” the lie was laid on too thick for the Medic to miss. The Spy was off his game.

“Where were you fools at when this all happened?” the Demoman demanded.

The Medic looked hesitant. The Heavy scratched his head indecisively. The two REDs were not going to be of any help to him, so he turned to his teammate. The man looked like he was ready to stroll out and be on his way to some high class party. He wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment.

“The control room,” the Spy stated.

The Medic gasped and then sputtered with outrage and horror. The Heavy still looked confused though, like he did not understand what they were talking about. The Spy looked over their reactions, measuring them like pawns on a gameboard.

“The hell were you doing there?!” Joshua exclaimed, “And why’d he call this fool and not me?”

“I am his teammate and you are not,” the Medic responded, “Besides, I knew where it was.”

“The hell? Why d’you know where it is? You shou-” his eye caught the Heavy’s expression. The man was confused and likely did not know anything about what they spoke. He was left completely out of the loop, while the Spy, the Medic and the Demo were completely aware of the Productions side of Mann Co. “Never mind, it’s not important,” he interrupted himself, “We brought both BLU Medics, one’ll have a spare medigun available.”

“Why you bring two Medics to hospital full of doctors?” the Russian asked.

“We were in a hurry, lads,” Joshua explained, “Melisa is in labor, and it looks like she was not doin’ so fine. The others went to see her, but I will be staying put here for now. If’n you want to y-” He was stopped again by his senses, this time, catching the other BLU Spy in his eye.

The man might well have been there the whole time. He was out of the line of his one eye’s sight. From that angle he could have just stood there and been completely invisible to Joshua, while the others said nothing about his presence, likely ignoring him.

“I see the Soldier is the one listed,” Réne noted, peering over at the bed, “What is wrong with him?”

The Spy called Jacques sighed with irritation and turned back to the bed where the Soldier was laying. His hands touched the bed, but he did nothing more. He said nothing more. He just stood there in silence.

“The Soldier is bleeding to death. By this point, the medigun won’t help with anything,” the RED Medic explained.

“I see,” Réne turned to Joshua, “I will be right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max gets on my nerves so much right now. He's not a bad guy, he's just had a long history of backstabs and paranoia that has led him to loathe Hugh. But in my opinion he needs to stop being a little bitch.  
> I want to hug the Spies. I mean Maurizio and Hugh.


	22. When Held Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is going to be okay.

Despite seeing the nurse take her pulse, Alhwin decided to double check on Melisa. He would be damned if he let something slip by him unexpectedly, because of trusting some hospital licensed practitioner. Besides, with her previous condition and the baby on the way, there was no room for error.

“You know you can calm down, right?” she asked, “These are well trained doctors here. They know what they are doing.”

“You trusted me to get you here safe,” he told her firmly, “And besides, they are not fully aware of what your condition was twenty minutes ago. I follow through with my patients.”

“Th-thanks,” she muttered.

They were startled when some boots came tramping in. “Aha!” He turned to see Réne, tailed by the Sniper, Frederick and the Heavy. “Stop fretting so much, mon ami,” the Spy chuckled at them.

“Melisa is doing better! In fact, I would say she is in perfect condition at this time!” Alhwin smiled, proud of his work. Of course, it was Frederick’s work too, without him he would not have managed the concoction. Still, he felt very proud.

“Good work!” Frederick cheered.

“Thank God,” the Sniper sighed with relief as he joined his lady at the side of her bed.

“Excuse me, I have something to check on,” Réne turned and motioned to Frederick and the Heavy, “You two stay out of trouble. Sam goes to you, Alhwin!” He finally left, taking his haughty attitude of power over others with him.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Bleu returned to the room holding Melisa as quickly as he had left it. Something like guilt sprung up in him. He could not help but feel somehow responsible for the Soldier’s death, even if he played no part in its orchestration. The man was a friend, after all.

He hurried to the room, and before anybody could say anything to him, he grabbed Frederick’s arm and pulled him out into the hallway. The man protested in German before he finally spoke in English. “What? What is this about?” the man protested against being pulled around.

“The Soldier is in the ER,” he stated.

“So? He is in a hospital!” the Medic scoffed.

“He is dying of blood loss,” he stated.

The Medic hesitated only a moment before he hurried back inside. Bleu did not have a chance to follow before he came back out donning the pack that Alhwin had been wearing. He nodded to the Spy, signifying that he was ready.

“Lead the way to the Soldier,” he lifted the nozzle of his contraption to shoulder height, ready to be aimed and used on somebody.

Some of the people around him started staring. Some of them started to freak out too, unsure of what the machine was meant to do. The Medic ignored them, and the Spy had to do so as well, as they hurried through the hallways to the other end of the hospital. He was growing worried that something might have happened between the conscious mercenaries while he was away.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“If you were not so busy trying to be prudent, you would not rub the Spy the wrong way,” Boris was scolding Max in his most scornful Russian.

Max sighed in response, frustrated by the situation they were talking about, “He is most of the reason why we hide all of the time!”

Hugh was sick of this. He was hearing them argue, one saying the other should be nice to him. He was tired of them not knowing that he knew well enough that they were talking about him.

He rounded on them, “I do not care either way whether you are a kindly old man, or the shrieking blackheart you are! I have no desire to sit here and listen to you two squander time on quarrels!”

The Heavy blinked at him, stunned by his response to their conversation, “BLU Spy understands Russian?”

“Yes I do,” Hugh growled as he switched to Russian, “I know a lot of Russian. I know a lot of languages. I know a lot of things. It is part of being a Spy. But, I would not hold it against you, given that you could not have known that I can and do understand and speak it.”

The Boris and Max exchanged glances. They both looked so confused by this. Neither of them wanted to speak and say the wrong thing either.

“But to listen to you talk about me? Like you’re my friend,” he motioned to the Heavy, “Or as if I have somehow wronged you. As if I have threatened or blackmailed you in any personal way directed at you outside of the boundaries of our battlefield? Fuck you both!” He threw up his hands for emphasis at his last words.

“Here we are!” the other BLU Spy’s familiar voice caught him off guard. Réne was heeled by the taller BLU Medic, who was freaking out passersby, who stared with confusion and aww at the contraption he carried. “The Soldier is on the bed,” Réne pointed to the unconscious mercenary.

“Thank you,” the BLU Medic ignored whatever was going on between the other mercenaries as he approached the bed and turned on his medigun. The weapon was not emitting its natural hue of blue, come out with tendrils that balanced the edge of blue and white.

“What? What are you doing?” Réne looked from Hugh to the REDs and back.

“Nothing,” Hugh narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more.

“A medigun will not help with him now, Herr Frederick,” the RED Medic interrupted the other’s work.

“Maxwell! Maxwell!” the BLU shook a finger at him with a sharp and scornful tone, “You underestimate me!”

Realization hit Hugh as he turned to watch the medigun work. The BLU Medic’s hands were steady, as he held the nozzle pointed directly at the Soldier. Andrew’s skin took on the soft blue glow, nearing white. When the machine finally started to whirr with the power of an ubercharge, the Medic flicked it on and restarted the stream.

Andrew’s body lurched. At first Hugh panicked, thinking his body was reacting to the medigun. Then Andrew himself leaped from the bed. His entire body was glowing with a bluish white emission, similar to but different from the uber charge. They all stood there, staring at the Soldier with amazement at what the doctor had created. This was the medigun, no doubt about that, but it was doing something different.

Andrew let out a loud yell, like he was in a battle, until suddenly the ubercharge died and he was left standing in the hospital robe. He blinked at them, looking around the room with a stunned expression. He suddenly seemed to realize his predicament, but he stood up straight and saluted.

“Thanks for the aid, doc!” he saluted the man.

“No problem, Soldier,” the Medic was grinning, probably brimming with pride in his work. No doubt he would brag about this to everyone.

“An ubercharge that can speed up the replication of blood?” the RED Medic asked with surprise.

“Indeed,” Frederick chuckled as he turned to his RED counterpart, “Thanks to the minds on BLU, we have created an attachment that can speed up the chemical bonding and molecular duplication of blood. It is still a prototype though. We have saved two lives with it now.” He patted the nozzle of his creation fondly. “Now let’s go see if it will fix a third!” Frederick turned and marched off, with a big frightening grin on his face.

Réne was thinking exactly what Hugh was thinking and hurried after him. Curious, the other Medic followed after, to see what he might do. The Heavy was following right behind him.

Hugh made to follow after them, sluggish after hours of awful thoughts weighing down on his already tired mind, when he was stopped by a hand. He looked back to see Andrew still standing there, but holding his arm. His face was red as a RED uniform, dressing his cheeks, forehead, nose and chin with the color of blood.

“Where are my clothes?” Andrew demanded.

“Pardon?” Hugh felt so stunned, realizing that Andrew was not dead and he would not be dying. Nobody would be coming to tell him that Andrew was about to die. He had a reason to live.

“I am not walking around in a dress!” Andrew’s more militant voice came out, mostly as a cover for how embarrassed he was.

Hugh shook himself as he walked towards the man’s discarded uniform. The back brace had been cut through, as had his under shirt and under armor. He was left with a shirt, a jacket and pants to go over his underwear. Once he picked them up, it took him a moment to realize that the man was _only_ wearing the hospital gown they put him in, with nothing underneath.

Somehow, he managed to laugh. He laughed so heartily that he could not hold onto the clothes, dropping them on a chair. Then he could not hold himself up, propping himself against the hospital bed Andrew had been laying on.

Then, he began to cry. He cried tears of joy and relief, as the pain washed over him and subsided like waves. The danger was gone and the trouble was over. Andrew was not going to die, and he was not going to be left without a reason to stick around in this lifetime.

“Are you okay?” Andrew’s voice barely broke through his fits of sobbing.

Suddenly, a hand cuffed him upside the head. He looked up to meet Andrew’s gaze, seeing a bit of panic in the other man at seeing this reaction. No doubt he was frightened and unsure about what to do about all of this.

“Come back to me, Spy,” Andrew pleaded softly.

Hugh carefully wiped a tear from his eye as he straightened himself up, “Apologies. I am…a bit overwhelmed…”

Andrew blinked at him, then scrunched his brow. He seemed completely at a loss for what he was talking about. His hands were on Hugh’s shoulders though, which offered him a bit of comfort.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Boris grabbed Max’s shoulder, but hesitated. He gave him an uncertain look, “I forgot something.”

“What?” Max blinked at him. He had to be kidding about this.

“I need to go back and get something I forgot,” Boris explained.

Max sighed, “Very well, let’s go.”

They turned and headed back through the emergency center. They headed back to the room that the Soldier was in, where Boris likely left the thing he forgot about. Max was about to speak when he pulled the curtain aside.

He was stunned to silence at seeing the Soldier pressed up against the Spy. It was not the bit of backside the peaked from the opening of the robe. Rather it was the delicate way that the Spy was holding the man, embracing him with such care, while his fingers dug desperately for a way to latch onto him forever. Then there was the way his shoulders had shrugged off their usual formality, hunching down as they mashed their faces together. There was so much passion in that one kiss, as tears streaked down their faces to meet at their lips.

Max quickly closed the curtain and backed away. He could not stop the spinning of his mind. He could not get the image out. He had imagined the Spy as an aloof type of man, not unlike the RED Spy, who donned suits and laid with women without anything to tie him down. The raw emotion he saw in there was not that. It was a impossible for a sneaky lying bastard like that to actually feel so much for another person, and a man no less.

Boris suddenly chuckled. Max turned to him, feeling very stumped at this new occurrence. He was not entirely sure what to make of this.

“I knew it,” Boris snickered.

Max’s mouth hung open as he looked from the man to the curtains and back again. He felt rather stunned. Between Boris having _known_ about something without Max knowing about it, and the sudden realization of what was happening between the Spy and the Soldier, he was not sure how to handle what he would do next.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn’s hand was starting to hurt, but he dared not say a thing. He gritted his teeth and bared it, while Melisa bent his hand all out of shape. He was sure he would soon lose feeling in his fingers. But, her current situation was more important, as the doctors went into a frenzied panic – the hospital doctors, not the Mann Co Medics, who had been sent out by Melisa’s screaming fury – over her contractions pushing the baby.

At this point, according to the BLU Medics, the child was dead. It would be a stillbirth. Right now, their goal was to save Melisa, bar all possibilities of saving the baby. It was gone for all they could tell, and he did not care either way so long as Melisa would be okay. He would eventually grieve the loss, but not while grieving over Melisa. He would not lose her too.

The doctors would not say much about what was going on, but they at least seemed legitimately concerned about her wellbeing, and not simply eager to cut into a person. They eventually gave her some form of anesthetic or narcotic, despite her earlier protests to the BLU Medic, and began surgery. There was a curtain placed in the way so neither him nor Melisa could see and watch the surgery though. It seemed bizarre and wrong for them to be hiding what was going on. Experience with the Mann Co medical employees was enough for him to know.

Wanting to be sure they were not fucking around, Glenn got to his feet to peek around the curtain. He could not be sure what they were doing, or what they were cutting into though. He had seen himself opened up enough times that it did not disturb him, but looking at it, he was not sure if any of those parts were in himself or if they were specifically female.

“What…what’s happening?” Melisa gasped, her grip loosening. The drugs were taking effect on her muscles, forcing them to relax now that they were mostly numb.

“I um…” he scratched at his head, pushing his hat back from the edge of his scalp, “I guess they’re cutting into your belly?”

None of the doctors would respond to him or give him any hints as to whether he was correct though. He could only stand there with fear, watching them dig into what could have been her intestines. He watched for a long time, until they suddenly pulled something out. Their hands exchanged tools and they began cradling a small purplish thing, bringing it out of her body.

He turned, feeling the blood leave his face. He wanted to be sick and throw up. The dizziness that swept over him would have overwhelmed him, if he were not a trained professional who had dealt with things like this. He could handle it, with one hand braced against the bed.

“Glenn, please sit down!” Melisa pleaded with him.

He did not take long to obey, pulling the chair up closer beside her. He sat down and focused on breathing. So long as he was breathing, he would be okay. He just had to remain steady and strong, for Melisa.

It could have been a few seconds, or even thirty minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He sat there, hunched over a little, with one hand held by Melisa. His other hand’s fingers were rubbing at his knee absent-mindedly. He wanted to pick up a rifle, clean it, buff it, reload it, test it, unload it, and put it back in its case. His hands wanted to work.

When that time ended, it was cut short by a cry. He would have mistaken it for a small animal, like a puppy, if he was not in a hospital. It made him lift his head and shoulders. It made him perk up, listening curiously with attentive ears.

Melisa’s grip tightened, “Glenn? Glenn? Glenn, did you hear that?” tears filled Melisa’s eyes and clouded her voice.

Glenn said nothing, merely listening for what would come next. Time dragged on again, while he listened with intense curiosity. He was not sure what to think. He did not want to get his hopes up, lest they came down too hard. For the same reason, he did not want to encourage Melisa and get her hopes up too high either.

His unspoken questions were not answered. The doctors took what they had and left. A few surgeons remained behind, to clean up Melisa and sew her back together. Glenn watched with a bit of indifference. They were not communicating with him or his girlfriend about what was going on with their baby. They were definitely not given permission to simply take the child’s body.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew had an extra spring to his step as he walked. He was glad to be in his uniform, fully clothed in such a public place. But, Hugh was leaning on him now, using his shoulder as a crutch.

The French Spy looked positively exhausted, as if everything he had in his body and mind were wasted. He was leaning so far over Andrew, losing his balance in the process, that he could have very well been drunk. Given there was no booze on his breath – or rather wine – Andrew suspected that Hugh had somehow missed sleep. When he finally glanced at a clock, he realized that that was very likely, between stress and how it was five thirty in the morning.

They were walking across the hospital though. Somebody had mentioned to them that the Sniper and Melisa were having their baby here, but Andrew could not remember whom it was. Was it Réne? He could not remember, he was still coming down from that strange uber high the doctor had given him. Though, given he did not want to worry Hugh, he did not mention feeling a bit dizzy and having sudden bursts of sensory overload that was not there.

He walked proudly still. He let Hugh lean on him and he ignored every stimulus that he identified as not real. He felt very proud of that too, figuring out the difference between a nurse pushing medical equipment into an elevator and a large bomb about to explode.

Once they came to the area where the babies were being born, things got much quieter. With the quiet came a bit of mental peace for Andrew. He hummed a little, feeling pleased at the easing of his mind.

Suddenly, he became aware that Hugh was humming. He smiled a little, listening to the soft noise coming from his love’s voice. After a while though, Hugh stopped walking, as though he had passed out.

“H-Jacques?” Andrew quickly caught himself up.

Hugh chuckled softly, “H-Jacques. Good name for me.”

“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, with concern.

“I’m okay,” Hugh stepped forward without him. His legs gave out from under him and he hit his knees.

Andrew rushed to his side, pulling him off the ground. He wrapped Hugh’s arm over his shoulders, though part of him wanted to pick him up and carry him. He noted how sleepy Hugh was and wanted to cradle him.

“Okay, so I am very tired,” Hugh finally admitted, “I have not slept in over twenty four hours. And…to add to that, this has all been very stressful.”

Andrew merely nodded, “Of course it has.”

He wrapped an arm around the other man, directing him towards a line of chairs up against a wall. Hugh was about to sit down when Andrew took the place he was going to take. He swayed slightly, trying to step towards the next step. Smirking giddily, and wishing he could suppress the blush in his face, Andrew pulled the Spy by his hip into his lap.

At first it was awkward, both of them grunting at the impact. Then Hugh managed to lay his head on Andrew’s shoulder where he was most comfortable. It was very uncomfortable for Andrew, but he could not shift much once the man in his lap had drifted off. Hugh did not even look like he was in a very comfortable position, he just passed out as soon as he was able to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you everything was going to be okay.


	23. Recovering Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh is not doing well, but Andrew is looking after him.

Andrew had to half carry Hugh the rest of the way through the hospital. After a few hours of sleep, he had woken the Spy in hopes of going off to find out where Melisa and her baby were. He would try the family area. They were wandering for quite a while though, and Hugh was not very helpful.

Fresh out of sleep the Spy was not as alert as he normally would be. He leaned on Andrew like a drunkard and let Andrew guide him completely. He even closed his eyes as they walked.

“Jacques, you need to wake up,” Andrew gave him a shake.

Hugh opened his eyes and gave him a glossy look, “I am trying.”

Andrew sighed, “I might as well just carry you there.”

“No,” Hugh straightened up, but his eyes closed again. He teetered unsteadily. “It’s fine, I am fine.”

Andrew put a steadying hand on his arm, “I am not so sure you should even be on your feet anymore.”

“Ah! Soldier! Spy!” a familiar voice called out to them.

Andrew’s head turned to the sound of Alhwin’s voice. The BLU Medic was waving to them in greeting as he approached. He had a chipper bounce to his step as he walked.

“Hey, doc,” Andrew greeted him, raising a free hand to wave.

“Spy!” the Medic exclaimed, “You do not look so good.” He looked the Frenchman over with a critical eye. “Do you feel hot or dizzy?” he reached up to touch the skin of the man’s face, pulling the balaclava over slightly.

Hugh’s reaction came delayed, when he finally smacked away the man’s hand. He reeled back, trying to put on some haughty expression. He glared down his nose at the Medic, which was the only thing he succeeded at doing, considering he was taller than both the Medic and Andrew.

“Do not touch me, doctor!” he spat.

“I am only trying to help,” Alhwin said, with an innocent and almost sweet attitude.

Andrew glanced between Alhwin and Hugh a few times, before he spoke, “He doesn’t let anybody touch his face.”

Hugh reeled again, this time looking to him, “That is not true!”

Andrew patted his back, “You look like you were dragged through hell behind a bear. Please let the doctor see to your wellbeing.”

Hugh did not say anything, but his body relaxed by a miniscule amount. Andrew took this as submission, guiding him towards a set of chairs set aside for waiting visitors. He sat Hugh down and waited for Alhwin to take his place. He watched as the doctor studied what he could see. He tried to move the holes of the balaclava, just enough to see some of the pale skin and get a feel for his temperature. He then pushed back a sleeve to test the pulse and even pinch the skin.

Andrew felt his face grow hot as he watched. He was growing a little frustrated with Alhwin and he was not entirely sure why. Alhwin was a good doctor, and he was taking good care of Hugh. Hugh barely even reacted anymore, closing his eyes and letting everything just happen. Andrew wanted to clobber the doctor though, watching as he pinched and prodded. He wanted to yell at him and tell him to be gentler, even though the Spy did not even react to being pinched.

When Alhwin had stopped, he rose to his full height with a curious look on his face, “He is severely dehydrated and seems to have maybe low blood sugar. Maybe low blood pressure. I cannot tell for sure. It is just enough to make him quiet out of it. Let’s get him some water and see if we can perk him up. We might need to get some food in him too.”

Andrew looked at Hugh, wondering whether to leave him there or to pick him up. Alhwin raised a hand as he answered the question for him.

“Leave him be. Just stay here and watch him. I will go and get some water and food,” Alhwin said, touching Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew nodded in response, “Alright, but where are you getting food here? This is a hospital.”

“There is a food court for visitors,” the Medic threw his thumb towards the end of the hallway.

“Alright,” Andrew felt his own stomach growl, but he did not comment on it.

Without another word, Alhwin turned and headed down the hallway. Andrew watched him go, until he disappeared around the corner. Then, he sat himself down next to Hugh.

Sensing or hearing that Andrew was next to him, Hugh leaned over until his head laid against his shoulder. He relaxed with a sigh as he started to doze. Andrew could already hear small huffs of snoring. Hearing that made him relax, shifting until he could comfortably enjoy his seat, with Hugh’s presence beside him.

When Alhwin came back, he was carrying an armful of things. Andrew would have jumped up to help him, but he noted the head using his shoulder as a pillow. The Medic suffered until he finally placed everything on the chair on the opposite side of the Spy. Hugh barely stirred at hearing this, his soft snoring ceasing, but he never stirred or opened his eyes.

“Wake him up, please,” Alhwin said to Andrew.

Andrew was about to reach up to touch the Spy’s face, in a tender and loving caress, when Hugh’s head shot up and he sat himself up. He took a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up to the doctor’s command. Alhwin looked to Andrew, who merely shrugged in response.

Hugh took a deep breath as he dropped his hands. He blinked away sleepiness as he looked up at Alhwin questioningly. He was too tired for actually speaking, allowing his facial expression to announce his distaste in being awoken.

“You need to drink some water,” Alhwin stated, as he twisted the cap off of a bottle.

He put it in the Spy’s hand and watched it while he drank. Suddenly, water was spilling down the front of Spy’s coat and shirt, as he gulped thirstily. Alhwin dove for the bottle, taking it away before the Spy could drown himself.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked, confused at seeing the bottle taken from a thirsty man, “You just told him to drink it.”

“Not so fast! Not so quickly!” Alhwin exclaimed, holding the bottle out to him again.

“I am so thirsty,” Hugh muttered, breathily.

“I know you are, but you mustn’t poison your body or put strain on it,” Alhwin explained, “So drink it slowly.”

Hugh complied, though he looked rather grumpy about it. He sipped the water carefully, glancing up at the Medic for approval. When he had nearly finished the water, the Medic took it from him, replacing the bottle with a freshly opened wrapper with a croissant. Andrew started to chuckle at that, which made Hugh turn to look at him questioningly.

“It’s a croissant!” Andrew chuckled, pointing at the baked good.

Hugh gave him a silent but questioning look. He did not get the joke. Perhaps he would have to explain everything to him.

“You’re French,” Andrew pointed at Hugh.

Hugh rolled his eyes and bit into the croissant. He immediately winced, regretting the taste of the thing in his hand. Alhwin stepped towards him, insisting that he eat the whole thing, the way a mother would insist to her children.

“This is disgusting,” Hugh stated, with an irritated tone.

“Oh, just eat it,” Alhwin huffed. He straightened up the little bag of foods and drinks, then handed a bottle and a wrapped pastry to Andrew.

 

They spent a while there. Hugh ate a few pastries, bent over with his elbows braced against his knees. Andrew had one hand on his back, rubbing him comfortingly. His other hand held whatever pastry thing Alhwin had given him to eat. He did not know what was wrong with it for Hugh, as it seemed alright to him. Maybe it was because it was not freshly baked.

He was surprised when the soft sound of snoring came from the Spy. Apparently, the back rub had lulled him to sleep. Andrew leaned forward to check, finding that his eyes were closed. He pulled back on his shoulders gently. Hugh jerked with a sharp inhale, but he could barely make himself open his eyes.

“It’s alright, just rest,” Andrew said softly.

Hugh sighed and laid his head back in the chair. Andrew rose from his seat though, feeling the call of nature. He dismissed himself to the Medic and headed off.

He was surprised on the way out when Alhwin was heading in, “Ah! Soldier…I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, doc,” Andrew shrugged, “What?”

“Are you…” Alhwin glanced over his shoulder down the hallway, where he had left Hugh to rest, “Are you and the Spy…do you and that Spy have a thing?” He met Andrew’s gaze with curiosity in his eyes.

Andrew’s face grew hot, probably revealing his answer. He cleared his throat and nodded though. He wished he had his helmet, so his eyes would be hidden from immediate sight.

“Ah-oh…I…I see…” Alhwin’s face turned red, as he averted his gaze.

“Are…um…is there a problem with it?” Andrew asked, feeling awkward. He was still standing in the doorway of the restroom, with the blushing Medic in front of him.

“Oh! No!” the Medic exclaimed, taking a step back to let Andrew step out.

When Andrew stepped out of the restroom’s doorway, the Medic fell into step with him. He seemed unaffected by the short exchange. Still, Andrew got this feeling that he should be embarrassed.

“I just wanted to be…to be sure,” Alhwin explained.

“You won’t say…anything, will you?” Andrew asked, feeling suddenly sensitive to the idea of his relationship being made known.

It did not have to do with his friends or even the Medic. Among the men from Mexico, he felt comfortable sharing this information. They were open with each other, and some of them even had such secrets themselves. He knew of the Spies’ relationship, so it was not far off to think that perhaps somebody else also had a relationship. But, realizing that the man he was in love with was the Spy, he felt compelled to keep it as quiet as a Spy would want it to be.

When they approached the chairs, they found the Spy sleeping with soft breathing. Andrew returned quickly to his seat, wanting to get off of his seat and just turn away from the Medic a little bit. His face was still very red, and he was not sure he wanted Hugh to ask questions about it, if he opened his eyes.

“N-no,” Alhwin stammered, “Of course, I won’t. Not if you do not want me to. I understand. I mean, not on a personal level, I don’t. But I understand wanting to keep personal matters to yourself.”

Andrew looked at Hugh’s up turned face. He was not snoring but breathing softly, sleeping lightly now. He looked so peaceful, but at the same time uncomfortable.

“Thank you, doc,” he nodded to his friend.

“Of course,” Alhwin glanced at the Spy, “Doctor patient confidentiality, after all.”

 

Hugh was doing better when they wandered off to the baby ward. Alhwin already knew where he was going, so they followed him. Andrew stayed alongside Hugh though, wanting to make sure the man did not teeter over from sudden renewed exhaustion.

They had bickered with the Medic over Hugh’s ability to walk through the hospital. After all, this was a place of health, and that meant he had the upper hand in the argument, which Andrew supposed made sense. Hugh had argued it out to the end, saying there was no proper place for him to sleep anyways, and that he would simply wait until he returned to the base to sleep off his exhaustion.

Hugh walked with his head held high. His eyes held bags of sleepiness, but still he held himself like he was unwavering. He did not allow himself to be restrained by the physical symptoms of his situation.

Andrew was smiling up at him when he glanced his way. He did a double take, giving him a questioning look. They were both quiet though, Hugh never asking his question and Andrew never answering.

They came to a door and Alhwin paused, turning to the two of them, “Wait here. I’ll be back, shortly.”

He stepped inside without another word. Hugh stood next to Andrew in silence for a while. When he finally spoke, his speech was slow and his words well chosen.

“You told the Medic about us,” he stated, slowly and surprisingly calmly.

Andrew’s face became red as he tried not to look at the Spy, but also tried not to look directly away from him. The heat burned his cheeks and made him feel awkward where he stood.

“You aren’t going to make a habit of this, are you?” Hugh asked.

“N-no,” he stammered, feeling dreadfully awkward.

“It may be more risky than we originally thought to share this information,” Hugh explained.

“More risky?” Andrew looked up at him, “How is it more risky?”

The door suddenly opened and Alhwin stepped out. He was quickly followed by the Sniper, who carefully closed the door behind himself. He turned to smile at Hugh, before his smile disappeared.

“Spy, you look like shit,” the Sniper stated.

Hugh frowned at him, “Thank you, mon ami. That is heartwarming.”

The Sniper chuckled, “You look like you haven’t slept in a week. Had a harsh night, have you?” His eye caught Andrew, and he looked at him with surprise. “Soldier, you look like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar,” he stated, giving Hugh a questioning glance.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said, defensively, “How is Melisa?”

“She is recovering from surgery,” the Sniper explained.

“Surgery? What were the complications?” Hugh asked with surprise.

“Bleeding,” the Sniper explained, “She started bleeding back at base. They haven’t shared what has happened to the baby though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while trying to imagine how Hugh would be trying to hold himself together while he was falling apart after all of that.


	24. A Little Interrogating Never Hurt Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh needs to interrogate Dooley about what is going on.

Andrew found himself meandering outside, trailing along behind Hugh and Glenn. The two were chattering quite a bit. The Sniper seemed completely oblivious to the Spy’s condition though. They walked along, while Hugh tried to keep his feet from dragging or bumping along the ground. It was apparent to Andrew that he was too tired to be doing this though.

They paused at the familiar red car, Maurice little car. Andrew almost wanted to go back inside just to apologize to the man for taking his vehicle for a joy ride. Not that he needed to, as his _amico_ probably knew he was apologetic. After all, he had already apologized for it before.

“The hell is that?” Glenn asked.

Andrew looked around, “What is what?”

“Noise in the car,” Glenn pointed to Maurice’s car.

“I…hmm…” Hugh blinked at the car sleepily.

Andrew stepped forward and tested the trunk. It was locked. The banging suddenly got louder, with a muffled voice that desperately tried to escape. Feeling bad, Andrew immediately felt panic. He took a few steps away from the car, taking slow deep breaths.

“Well, shit,” Glenn muttered, “I don’t have a crowbar.”

“Maybe in the ambulance?” Hugh pointed to an ambulance with red trim.

“Is…is that RED’s ambulance?” Glenn gave the Spy a perplexed look. Hugh merely nodded in response. “We brought BLU’s ambulance,” Glenn turned his head to nod at the strangely similar ambulance with blue trim.

“Either one might have something,” Hugh paused halfway through a yawn, suppressing it instinctively.

“Right,” the Australian meandered towards one of the ambulances to climb in and start rummaging.

Andrew would have helped, but he was wary of Hugh’s condition. He was not swaying right now, but that did not mean he could not start getting dizzy or something. Andrew would be nearby to catch him, keep him upright, or simply be an aid while he was mentally incapacitated.

“Here we go!” Glenn returned with a crowbar in hand, tapping it against the palm of one hand.

Without a second thought, the Sniper began wrenching the trunk open. It took a lot of effort and a bit of assistance from Andrew, but they managed to break the locking system and release the trunk. Andrew was glad to be of help, and was glad that the Sniper had not insisted that the Spy help.

Andrew was not prepared for what was inside. He had prepped himself for a captive – though honestly he had completely forgotten about the RED Engineer. However, he was not prepared for the dead BLU Scout he was laying on top of.

“Scout!” Andrew exclaimed, unable to put all of his thoughts to his tongue.

“Yes, it seems the Scout is dead,” Hugh reached in to check the youth’s pulse, “Definitely dead.”

The Engineer struggled, his voice muffled behind worn duct tape. His eyes searched their faces desperately. The desperation reached out to Andrew and pulled him in. Without a second thought, he reached over and yanked the duct tape off of his mouth.

The Engineer cried out in pain, then sighed with relief at being free of the tape. He took a few labored breaths, his face covered in sweat simply punctuated the overall look of a desperate man trapped in a hot cage of the back of the car. He looked like he could have been left in there for several hours, which was probably not good for his health.

“Thanks partner,” the Engineer offered a smile of gratitude.

“What happened?” the Sniper asked, a bewildered look painted across his face.

“M-Maurice stuffed me in the trunk,” the Engineer shuddered, “After they-”

Hugh gestured him to silence, “They are asking about the Scout.”

The Engineer turned, limbs still bound, to look down at the body of the Scout. He was slow and deliberate as he turned back to them to explain. “I do not know for sure, as I was in the trunk,” the Engineer explained, “But somebody had to have killed him. He was alive when I was stuffed into the trunk, and then I got whipped around. Next thing I know, they are switching me out for Price’s body.”

The Sniper stepped forward, taking a knife offered up by the Spy. He quickly unbound the duct tape wrapping the Engineer’s hands and feet, before pulling him away from the car. That was when Hugh stepped forward to inspect the body, taking a closer look at the wound on the younger man’s head.

“Looks like that whip might have been what killed him,” Hugh said, as he rose from the trunk. He grabbed the trunk door and slammed it shut, even though it would not lock – so it bounced back up.

“Damn,” Andrew muttered. He did know Price too well on a personal level, but he knew he was a nice kid.

“You look to be in bad shape,” Hugh stepped towards the Engineer.

Andrew noticed the small wince and the look of refrainment. The Engineer’s entire body tensed up as he eyed Hugh warily. He looked like his hand was trying to grasp for something, like a wrench.

Hugh was aware – somewhat – of his surroundings, and thus was cautious as he approached the RED Engineer. He kept up his aloof behavior, but softened it a little bit. He put on a look of worry and concern, though Andrew doubted that Hugh cared about anything that happened to the Engineer.

Hugh pulled out a handkerchief and a water bottle, dampening the cloth to wipe some dried blood off of the Engineer’s head. “Why would they stuff you into the trunk, I wonder?” Hugh asked, gentle on the Engineer’s head, and gentle with his pensive tone.

Andrew never really paid attention to the way Hugh worked before. Backstabs and such were one thing, but the Spy had a way of making an interrogator look and feel like a concerned friend. He probably used this technique often, fooling men into believing he was their friend to get what he wanted from them. And it probably worked on Andrew often enough, since it was working on the RED.

The Engineer relaxed a little bit. His muscles loosening and his facial expression becoming less wary. He let the Spy clean the blood away from his shaven scalp.

The Engineer was about to answer when the Sniper spoke up, “He was being questioned for shooting at the RED Spy’s car. The RED Spy was keeping him for questioning. I think he thought it would be better to bring him than to leave him, when they came with us to the hospital.”

Hugh shot the Sniper a silencing glare, “I see.”

Andrew remained silent, his eyes shifting between Hugh and the Engineer. There was something so downtrodden about the RED. Still, he felt safer seeing Hugh doing the interrogating than Maurice. Andrew trusted Hugh and his well-trained hands. Maurice was passionate, quick to anger, and probably hurt the Engineer with more than words.

“N-now, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for that,” the Engineer stammered.

“Oh yea,” the Sniper growled, forgetting about the Spy’s glare, “And he knew Melisa was in the car.”

“I-y-no! No! You cannot prove that!” the Engineer spat, his cheeks growing red.

“This is too many people,” Hugh waved off Glenn’s next statement, “Let’s get back to the base, and then we can get an explanation of what happened.”

“We still have a sniper to find,” Glenn muttered.

“We must deal with one thing at a time,” Hugh stated, tucking the handkerchief into a pocket, “Let’s go back to base and handle this.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” Glenn asked, “I did not bring my truck, and I don’t see your car.”

Hugh hesitated, rubbing his chin with a pensive look. He turned to look at the RED ambulance, “Let’s take that one.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh could barely keep his eyes open in the vehicle. Its engine’s hum was lulling him towards sleep and he could not fathom staying awake much longer. He really wanted to lay down and rest, but he could sense the tension in his friend. In the back, he could hear the Engineer and Andrew exchanging a bit of small and awkward conversation.

The Engineer was hiding something; that much was obvious to him. His behavior had become sporadic and that of a man who was trying to keep private, without knowing how. But, as long as he was with Andrew he was calm.

As much as he hated using Andrew as bait, he needed something to hook the Engineer. After a briefing over what happened, or at least what the Sniper knew of what happened, Hugh had become more doubtful of the Engineer’s trustworthiness. The documents from the control center came back to him, and he tried to remember if he ever saw the name Dooley on any of them. Still, knowing the man had shot at the car, knowing that Melisa was inside, was horrifying. Seeing as he rescued Andrew, it seemed that the Soldier was his best bet for getting to the Engineer.

“What will you do about him?” Glenn interrupted his thoughts.

Hugh glanced over his shoulder again, checking on the Soldier and the Engineer. The two were chattering like old pals. It seemed that Andrew had many memories with this man, many memories that bonded them in friendship. Andrew was smiling broadly, happy to share these memories with the Engineer, like they were not in a battle of blue uniforms verses red uniforms. It seemed different to how Andrew’s attitude was years ago, before he was sent to Mexico.

Perhaps it was all perspective. Andrew was working for RED – at least that was what Mann Co said on the paperwork – for a time, and during that time had learned that the other team was quite the same. He even found a whole different kind of mercenary, the kind that could have friendships with men with whom they fought for a living.

Hugh turned his attention back to Glenn’s question. Regardless of how friendly the Engineer was, or how close he was to Andrew, Hugh had to find out what he knew. Though, seeing that the man had been under pressure and interrogation before, it seemed that he would need a brand new tactic. He could only think of his old tactics though, and ponder whether the RED Spy would have used them or not.

“Let’s see what he is worth,” Hugh said quietly, just in case the Engineer overheard. He was careful with his words, so as not to be blunt about the need to question him. “I am sure we will have this all sorted out by the end.”

When they arrived at the base, Hugh hesitated to get out of the vehicle. Glenn caught onto his hesitation and also paused. He seemed to be waiting for a cue or a sign as to whether it was okay.

“Glenn,” he looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

His voice went low, to a level that most would not hear. He knew that Glenn’s ears would catch his words though, being used to getting attuned to listening for the footfalls of a Spy. The Sniper gave him a small nod in response to show that he was listening.

“Take Andrew into the base,” he spoke so softly, he almost could not hear himself, “Distract him with food. The Engineer and I will be along.”

A tiny nod in response and the door opened. Hugh followed the Sniper’s lead as they clambered out of the Ambulance. Andrew and the Engineer climbed out too, having been too lost in conversation and old memories to think about getting out on their own. Almost immediately, the Sniper approached the Soldier and proposed food.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Dooley’s head snapped around when the BLU Sniper approached the Soldier, “How’s rib eye sound to you?”

Dooley looked to the Soldier, whose stomach growled and whose face lit up with a smile. Such a nice smile. He became such a giddy idiot over the suggestion of meat, or barbeque, or any kind of hardy might-be-American-style food.

“Croissants were shit, I could use a real man’s meal!” the Soldier grinned.

“Let’s go,” the Sniper jerked his head towards the base, before he turned to lead the way.

That struck the Engineer as strange. The BLU Sniper never seemed that friendly to the Soldier before, at least not this Sniper. This guy always seemed either indifferent or irritated by the Soldier. He was distant and cold.

Why was he even here anyways? He should be at the hospital, should he not? Being here meant he was not with his girlfriend, who was in the midst of surgery, or giving birth, or both. Dooley was not sure.

“Might I have a moment with you?” the Spy suddenly asked.

That set alarms off in Dooley’s head. He was not sure whether to run after Andrew and protect him, or if he should just comply to make things look less suspicious. This was not Maurice or Réne, after all. This man was something like Réne tried to pretend to be, and nowhere near as friendly as Maurice. If Maurice’s discussions about the resident Spies was anything to go by, he was a very dangerous man, whose mind was a weapon.

He glanced the Soldier’s way, but concluded that the Sniper would not harm him, “What’s on your mind?”

He turned to face the Spy squarely to find that he was smoking. He glared at the cigarette, wishing he could whack it out of the Spy’s face. Showing physical domination would mean nothing to a Spy like this though. If Réne’s behavior was anything to go by, it was likely he would only enjoy it too much. He shuddered to think that thought.

“Why _did_ you shoot at that vehicle?” the Spy asked, with a pondering look on his face.

Dooley licked his lips nervously. He was fully prepared to be questioned, having recited certain answers in his mind. That did not stop him from feeling hot in the face, dry in the mouth and scared beyond belief. Spies were dangerous, if Maurice’s tactics were anything to go by.

Maurice was once somebody he trusted, to some extent. He would have trusted the man with his life in battle. He probably had and did not remember it. Still, up until recent events, he considered Maurice a good friend, with passion and authenticity behind his attitude. And yet, he still used some **tactics** in an attempt to get answers out of him, ignoring their previous friendship, like it meant nothing.

This man had no connections to him. Given his training, he probably knew much more about torture and interrogation than either Maurice or Réne did. He could probably even handle torturing the screams out of a dear friend or relative.

That reminded him of the Soldier’s friendship with this Spy. Lately, he had given up his mantra against Spies, befriending Réne and Maurice as a pair. He even somehow found out that the two were a loving pair – or at least they used to be. The first emotion to well up was jealousy, boiling and broiling just beneath the surface until he was nearly shaking with outrage that he was replaced by a Spy.

But, then he realized that it meant that the Soldier was close to the Spy. The man was a dangerous creature, with a mind like a weapon. And as Dooley thought about it, he agreed more and more with himself that the man could torture the life out of somebody he held dear without batting an eye. And when he mentally placed the Soldier there, he became more and more aware of just what the Soldier had gotten himself into by befriending this man.

If a kind friend like Maurice could willingly torture a friend, then this man was nowhere above doing terrible things. His palms became sweaty and he wiped his brow as the thoughts spun through his head. Such terrible things the Spy could do to the man he loved. Even unrequited, that love burned just as bright as it ever did.

It was time to answer the question though. There was no stalling. He was standing there quietly, likely looking red and guilty. The Spy was patient though, waiting quietly as the Engineer thought over his words.

“I…I uh…” the Engineer hesitated, giving the Spy an awkward smile. The nervousness was getting to him and he could not handle it for much longer. He felt like his nervous system was going to snap. “I received orders from the Administrator, you see,” he explained, pretending to be kind and somber with his tone.

The Spy gave him a haughty raise of the eyebrows. It was a look that asked whether Dooley thought he was stupid. Dooley could probably do better if he did not feel so much pressure.

“The Administrator has retired,” the Spy stated dryly, “Try again.”

That surprised Dooley. He was not expecting this Spy to know. Administration had already decided that Spies were too much to handle when they knew about what they were trying to hide. Now he wondered just how much the Spy knew about Administration and Mann Co Productions.

“Administration,” he offered the Frenchman an awkward smile, “I meant Administration. Tongue slipped. Ya know?”

The Spy was not buying the smile. He was not taken for the ride that Dooley offered.

“I see,” the Spy believed his words.

Dooley was a bit relieved that the Spy was buying his words. At least they were true words. His smile might have been faked for the sake of looking innocent, but he was technically telling the truth. He did receive orders from Administration headquarters.

“Am I to presume those orders had something to do with Melisa?” the Spy asked, with a gentle gesture of his hand.

Dooley licked his lower lip. His lips felt so dry. His mouth felt so dry.

“Well now, I can’t really say that,” he said, his head growing hotter.

“Why not?” the Spy gave him a puzzled look.

“Well, because it is classified,” Dooley explained, hoping the Spy would take the simple answer.

Of course he would not. Judging from the small change in his facial expression, it was apparent that the Spy was going to try to drag it out of him one way or another. Dooley winced at the thought of what he might do.

“That seems highly unlikely,” the Spy stated.

“What makes you say that?” Dooley felt nervousness grow stronger inside his chest.

“Why would they give classified information and orders to an Engineer? Why not a Spy?” he asked.

“Well I am a handler,” Dooley tried to explain. That was a partial truth, a piece of information as to why they chose him.

The Spy went on without missing a beat, “Unless, perhaps the mission was one that the Spy would question. Where a Spy would not be so easily manipulated by the system to obey, and would utilize it as blackmail instead of following through. Given your French Spy is a handler and so is Réne…it stands to reason that one of these skilled men of espionage would have been prime choices for a quiet murder.”

The words sank in like rocks in a pond. He felt panic build up the more the Spy spoke. He seemed like he was driving into the truth, but Dooley was sure the Spy already knew. At least it seemed like he knew, like he did not need Dooley to know about all of this. Still, he listened quietly.

“I mean…a rough and rowdy cowboy like you? But, you don’t question things Mann Co tells you to do, do you?” the Spy asked.

He grew angry at that, he balled his fasts and raised them. He opened his mouth to issue an angry warning.

“No you wouldn’t,” the Spy just kept on talking, “Not while they have Andrew’s life to dangle in front of your nose.”

Silence hit hard and Dooley felt like he had been dropped from a three story building. When he reoriented himself, he realized he was shifting idly where he stood. He looked like a remorse idiot, unable to keep his calm and his mind together. The Spy was quiet for the time being, watching him calmly and quietly.

“You are one of the pieces,” the Spy made a gesture, as if making a checkmark on a mental list, “You are just a pawn, but a piece nonetheless. Though, I imagine you assisted in the orchestration of all of this, didn’t you?”

Dooley was dead silent, unable to speak. He could not feel his blood in his face, but he could feel his heart pounding in his throat. His hands were shaking with sweat while his feet sank into the Earth.

“You love him, and they hold that against you,” the Spy stated, “So you assisted them in getting a hitman to Melisa’s house. And when you realized Andrew was in the car, you stopped to save him, because you care about him too much.”

He kept hitting marks. He might as well have been a marksman with a razorback and huntsman himself. As funny as the idea of a French Sniper would have been, at this moment, Dooley could only feel fear and dread.

“So who’d you send? Somebody on the outside, perhaps?” the Spy went on.

He tried to open his mouth, but it was so dry and his tongue would not obey. There was nothing his mouth could do to form words. There was barely anything coherent in his mind anyways, so this was probably for the best.

“You probably feel regret for it,” the Spy clapped him on the shoulder in passing, “But, your regret does not dismiss the consequences for your actions. They will come one way or another.”

The Spy was about to head towards the base, when he snatched the man’s blue sleeve. The Spy was surprised but not dazed. He turned and quickly disengaged the Engineer’s hand from his jacket sleeve. Dooley was not so easily put off though, as he charged at him.

His lower gravity – being much shorter than the Spy – gave him an advantage. With a few quick grabs and punches, he had the man slung over his shoulder, before throwing him down. Unused to wrestling, the Spy was dazed, and then the wind was knocked out of him. Unarmed with weapons, Dooley decided to use his God given weapons, his bare hands, to end this man before he ruined the arrangement.

He wrapped his fingers around the scrawny neck, the velvet soft balaclava stretching and moving beneath his skin. He refused to let up though, while the Spy struggled to find release for his throat and remove the Engineer from atop his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugh is very clever. He has many of the pieces already, he just needed Dooley's reactions to set his pieces in the right place.  
> Dooley ain't having that shit.


	25. Spy's Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is behind a Spy's mask?

Andrew kept glancing at the door expectantly. Eventually he became worried. Glenn had assured him that they were coming, but he had expected them sooner. What could Dooley and Hugh be talking about for so long?

He blushed at the thought that he was their connection. They could have been talking about him while he was not around, and he was not sure that he was okay with that. That seemed both strange and nerve racking.

“They’re fine, mate,” the Sniper said, dismissively. He turned a steak over. “This rib eye is almost done. You want it?”

Andrew shook his head. He wanted to stop feeling like they were talking about him. He wanted to feel safe, and know that Hugh was safe beside him. He was feeling paranoid and honestly a bit dizzy. Maybe it was just the paranoia, but he did not feel safe without Hugh by his side for so long.

“You have it,” Andrew stated, “I gotta relieve myself.”

He put on his best I-am-an-out-of-my-mind-Soldier voice, and saluted the Sniper. The man was barely affected, responding with a mock salute of his own. He returned his attention to the skillet.

“Hurry back,” Glenn said, before Andrew headed out of the kitchen.

The base was very quiet. Every sound, including footsteps, were very loud, echoing against the wooden boards that made up the recently built base. With nobody around to make noise, it felt empty, almost like death.

The eeriness of it was creeping Andrew out, causing him to walk a little faster. He hurried until he reached the entrance. There, he paused to take a deep breath. He was dizzy, and it only worsened when the sunlight hit him. Dawn was already peeking over the horizon and it was not pleasant on his senses. Neither was the distant blast and the blazing horns.

He straightened up and closed his eyes. This was not real, nobody was here to make that noise, he assured himself. He opened his eyes and hurried towards the RED Ambulance, in hopes of finding Hugh. He needed to find him. He needed him; he needed Hugh’s presence.

He rounded the back to find the RED Engineer on top of Hugh. While at first surprised, heat rising to his face, he immediately became aware of what was going on. He snatched for a pistol, but found he was unarmed. He did not have a shotgun or knife or anything.

“No matter where you go, no matter what you do, it’ll still be there to guide you,” the voice went on. Andrew tried to shake it off, but without any luck. “Just remember to keep a good knife and a reliable gun on you. Never leave without those things. Maybe pack some pots and pans if you’re travelling. Those are mighty good things to have. But never leave without a knife and a reliable gun.”

Andrew groaned at the memory, trying to push away the realness of that voice. He recognized the voice, but not the face that appeared in his vision. He tried to blink it out of his sight, as he charged at the Engineer. He grabbed him by the shoulders, heaving him off of Hugh with as much force as he could muster.

“Soldier!” the Engineer gasped with surprise as he was thrown out of the way.

Hugh gave raspy gasps for air, seeking to fill his lungs. His feet kicked a few times before he managed to get them underneath of himself. When he was on his feet, he leaned against the ambulance, one hand on his throat. He looked quiet shaken, for a man who had been in war.

“S-Soldier!” the Engineer gasped, trying to approach them both, “He attacked me! He tried to start a fight! He tried to pin blame on me for what has been happening! He’s a dirty rat trying to make trouble!”

Andrew reeled back, blinking at the Engineer with disbelief. Was he hearing things right? Was the Engineer really blaming Hugh for something. Andrew had to shake himself as he thought about it. Hugh _was_ a Spy, nobody would let him forget that. Yet, knowing him closely, he felt such an attachment that he could not believe that.

“Hey!” the Sniper called as he came running out. He slowed to a stop when he saw the Spy slide down the ambulance to sit down, rubbing his eye.

“S-Solly, he attacked me!” the Engineer pointed at the Spy.

“What happened?” Glenn addressed Hugh.

“Solly!” the Engineer desperately tried to get a response out of Andrew.

“I was asking questions, and I pissed off the Engineer,” Hugh said simply, reaching up for Glenn’s hand. The Sniper accepted the hand, pulling him to his feet. “He punched me in the gut and the face before he slammed me to the ground to choke me,” Hugh explained, without hesitation or second thought, “In the position in which you found me, Soldier.”

Andrew frowned. That sounded a bit off, considering the RED Engineer was not a vicious guy off the battlegrounds. In fact, Andrew would have put himself between vicious opponents, given the man’s timid and gentle temperament. This seemed completely out of character for him.

At the same time, he could not believe Hugh would blatantly lie to him. Would he though? It made him feel guilty as he questioned his love’s actions. If he was innocent, Andrew would only feel all the worse for even thinking that he would lie about the RED Engineer attacking him.

“Are you kidding me?” the Engineer scoffed, “You lying snake! Who would believe a Spy?!”

“I would,” the Sniper pushed up the front of his hat, “Mostly because he’s BLU and you’re RED.”

“This ain’t about no RED and BLU debate, son!” the Engineer protested.

“I have no reason to trust a bastard who opens fire on my gal,” Glenn growled, with a low tone of disdain.

Andrew looked from one man to another. He could not settle his mind, until his eyes suddenly met Hugh’s gaze. The man finally looked at him, with a bit of concern. He returned the gaze with an expression of his own concern.

“Sniper, may I use the mirror in your camper?” Hugh asked.

“What? Why?” the Sniper scoffed, irritated by the request, “Why don’t you go in the base. Plenty of mirrors in there anyways.”

“Your camper is closer,” Hugh insisted, “I will only be a minute.”

The Sniper growled and pulled out his keys, “Fine.”

Hugh took the keys and headed to the camper. Unable to stop his feet, Andrew started up after him. The Sniper did not question it, but the Engineer called after him. The Sniper started scorning the Engineer, as if the man was some sort of captive.

“You need yourself a gun and a knife, Soldier!” a voice started up.

Andrew groaned again, his feet quickening. The voice sounded so real. The distant pop popping of gunshots sounded real too, and those were growing nearer. Were they real?

He climbed into the camper after Hugh, quickly closing the door behind himself. Hugh quickly closed the blinds to the windows before turning on a single light in the shower room, where a small dirty mirror sat above the tiny sink. He removed his balaclava, sparing it no care as he turned to the color turning on his face.

Andrew frowned, “That’s a mighty fine bruise.”

“It’s from the Engineer punching me,” Hugh stated.

“Oh,” Andrew felt ashamed.

This was definitely evidence that the Engineer had been the attacker. As much as he did not want to believe it, it was more likely that the Engineer had attacked him. If he really thought about it, if the Spy had attacked the Engineer, it would have been the Engineer on the ground. Surely a Spy would have had a plan laid out to strike.

While Hugh was good at defending himself, it was likely that the Engineer took him by surprise. If he punched him several times, maybe he caught him up, knocked the air out of his lungs and slammed him down, as Hugh had explained. The Engineer had explained nothing so far, so Andrew concluded that the evidence pointed to Hugh’s innocence.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around the Spy. This surprised the man, causing him to flinch and look at him with confused eyes. A gloved hand gently touched the side of Andrew’s head.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew muttered into the felt of Hugh’s jacket.

“What? Why?” Hugh scrunched his brow.

“I didn’t mean t- I shouldn’t have doubted you a moment,” he said, scorning himself as he apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh replied, gently patting Andrew’s head.

“A knife and a gun can keep you alive for so long. Don’t forget that pally,” a stray voice said. Andrew clung a little tighter.

“Are you okay?” Hugh asked, with concern in his voice.

Andrew shook his head a little, “Voices.”

“It’s alright, I am here,” gloved hands rubbed the back of his head.

Andrew sighed with a feeling of relief and comfort. The sounds were still there, but he knew that Hugh would watch out for him. He could feel and smell the comfort of the other man for the moment.

“We should be a bit careful,” Hugh said, patting his shoulder, “I need to put my bala-”

He cut off as the door opened. Hugh’s hands worked frantically, trying to get the mask open. His frantic behavior hurt his actions, rather than helping. He simply fumbled and even dropped the felt. Andrew reacted by bending over to grab the mask for him.

“The hell is-” the Sniper was saying as he stepped inside the camper.

Andrew snapped up, with the mask in hand. He stood rigidly erect as he handed Hugh his mask. His face was red, staring at Hugh’s face as he stared back at the Sniper. Hugh took it into stride though.

“Thank you, Andrew,” Hugh said, accepting his mask in one hand, “How about you go see to the Engineer?”

Andrew nodded slowly before he turned. He saluted the Sniper, before he passed him, heading out of the camper.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn felt like he was caught in a surreal moment. It was only the Soldier being there that assured him that what he was seeing was real. After the American stepped out of the camper though, Glenn was left to stare with befuddlement at the Spy.

The man was standing there, looking bemused. He was definitely surprised, not expecting the Sniper to come into _his own_ camper. But he was bemused nonetheless, by the look on the Spy’s face.

What could he say about this though? He stared at the Spy, trying to concoct something to say to move on from this awkward silence. It was not the right moment to be remembering that he was not good with words, or with people.

“Are you going to stand there looking like an idiot?” the Spy asked.

Glenn opened and closed his mouth a few times. He was not sure how to respond, not without looking like a complete and utter fool.

“Face…” he managed to utter, but that was all.

“Yes Glenn,” the Spy rolled his eyes, “My face is bruising. I was punched. Do you have anything cleverer to say? Or will you get me some ice?”

Glenn said nothing as he reached into his little freezer. He kept a bag of peas there, just in case he received a bruise that he was too lazy to go to the infirmary to have healed. He had barely noticed the bruise though, his eyes had been too focused on how pale he looked, how his narrow face and prominent nose gave him an important look, as well as that scar on the nose. There was too much to focus on to realize that the skin around his eye as well as his cheek was turning color.

“Thank you,” Spy said, as he accepted the bag of peas, placing it to his eye.

“Y-you took your-your balaclava off,” Glenn stammered. He could not believe how much of an idiot he sounded like, but he could not make himself speak words with confidence.

“To check the extent of my injuries,” the Spy turned to check his face in the mirror again. He winced with disgust at the darkening bruise. “It stretches lower than I had thought,” he trailed a finger down from the bag of peas along his hollow cheek.

Glenn was silent for a while, as he stared. He knew Spy as a man without a face. He had eyes, he had something for a nose that was shaped weird, and he had a thin mouth. But what had constituted a face in Sniper’s mind – in place of what he saw – was nothing like the man who stood before him.

“Are we going to have another discussion about you freaking out that I am wearing less clothing?” Spy asked, his eyes narrowing and an eyebrow rising.

Glenn shrugged, “Maybe.” It was a very unsure maybe.

Spy shook his head, chuckling. He let a soft smile trail across his face, “You are ridiculous.”

Glenn dropped his head a little, so the brim of his hat covered his eyes. He did not know what else to say to him. He felt embarrassed for feeling foolish, but he could not shake the strange feeling that he walked in on something weird and that it was not right for him to be seeing the man with an actual face.

Spy sighed and turned back to the mirror, “Whatever will I or Melisa do with you? Speaking of whom…she wanted a change of clothes, right?”

“Oh that,” Glenn scratched the back of his neck, glad for the change in subject, “I am just gonna bring the camper. Most all of her clothes are in here anyways.”

“I see,” the Spy shifted the ice on his face.

“You shouldn’t walk around like that,” Sniper stated, swaying a bit. He glanced at the shielded window, hoping that it was enough to hide the inside of this camper. “Cameras are out there, you know.”

“There is nobody at the control center,” Spy stated.

“Excuse me?” Glenn’s head snapped around.

“Oh right,” the Spy waved his hand dismissively, “You don’t know about the control center.”

“What is-?” his question would go unfinished and unanswered as the sound of the ambulance starting up caught his ear. He turned and darted out of the camper, to see the ambulance pulling away.

“We have to stop that ambulance!” Spy declared.

Glenn glanced around briefly, “The hell is the Soldier?”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Dooley had been a little frightened to see the Soldier so pale and yet red. He looked embarrassed, or maybe frightened. He began to wonder what they told him in there. Maybe it was something along the lines of the truth, if the Spy truly did know what was going on.

Terror struck him, but he played it off, “Hey there Soldier! You don’t look too good!”

“I am fine,” the Soldier rubbed his face and gave him a quirky smile.

Dooley sighed, trying to ignore his heart melting inside his ribcage, “Did they say something to you?”

“No,” the Soldier shook his head. He was probably lying though. “You punched Jacques in the face, though,” the Soldier’s mood and tone suddenly changed.

Dooley swallowed his spit. He felt a moment of fight or flight response hitting him. He stood completely still though, refusing to give into urges to run or fight. This was Solly after all. He was not in any real danger, he was just feeling embarrassed for what he had done, and ashamed that the man he loved would not agree with his actions.

“Why’d you do that?” the Soldier demanded.

Dooley licked his dry lips nervously, “Look, Solly. You don’t understand what’s going on here. It ain’t like…it ain’t like I am trying to hurt nobody. I just want you to be safe.”

“I would be more worried about the hell that is about to rain down on you for the shit that you have pulled!” the Soldier barely raised his voice, he did not have to. His was a voice that could project dominance with the slightest change.

“Look, Solly,” Dooley sighed, “I have to tell you something. I have to tell you the truth. I can’t tell you when I am here though. I can’t tell you around them. You have to trust me. I want the best for…f-for…” He stammered, tears welling in his eyes. He wanted the best for the Soldier, but he knew that would not be enough for him. “I want the best okay?” he rubbed his eyes on his sleeve, “Please let me. I will tell you, but you have to trust me.”

The Soldier was silent for a few moments. He paused, turning his head and shoulders to glance back at the camper. He was thinking over the suggestion, but what he thought of it was beyond Dooley.

“Please?” Dooley offered his hand, and what he hoped was an innocent and kindly expression, “Trust me?”

The Soldier hesitated again, glancing at the ambulance. After a while, he nodded and took Dooley’s hand. He had a firm grip, and his jaw was locked in a way that said he was still angry. There was something that was off about this. Dooley did not like it, but he did not have to, so long as he had the man’s trust. That was all he needed from him.

With a smile, Dooley motioned to the ambulance with his free hand. He was glad when the Soldier gave him a tight and firm nod. He did not bother to ask as he headed towards the driver’s side door to the ambulance. The Soldier climbed into the passenger seat and waited as Dooley started up the vehicle.

“Drive us to that control center,” the Soldier demanded.

Dooley frowned, his heart dropping a little. There were cameras there. There might even be people there too. Well, that last part was just as likely as the first, given there were usually at least two people working on the cameras.

“Solly, there are still cameras and such over there,” he told the man, “If you want a remote location, how about down by the lake? I know a place where the REDs go fishing.”

The Soldier refused to answer for a minute. His jaw was very locked into place. Finally he gave a tight nod.

“Drive us to the lake,” the Soldier commanded.

“We have to stop that ambulance!” he heard the Spy’s voice as he accelerated on the gas.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew’s heart was pounding wildly. He heard Hugh call after the ambulance. What was he doing? He felt so unsure of himself. Still, there was so much encouraging him to do something.

If Hugh tried again, he would either have to hurt the RED Engineer, or the Engineer would hurt him. Glenn would probably be of no help, so he was not going to bother asking that man to try and reason with the Engineer.

He had tried to give it as much thought as possible. He knew this was a bad choice, and that Dooley would pull something. He did not trust him in the slightest. He had to tighten his jaw and let his face remain firm. It was the face of a drill sergeant before rookies.

So long as Dooley thought he was gullible and would trust him, then Dooley would pull something. Of course, he was probably already pulling something by insisting that they go down to the lake. That or he was trying to be romantic at the most inappropriate time. Whatever the case, Andrew had to be constantly aware of what was going on and what Dooley was doing. Before he knew it, something could happen.

Still, knowing that he needed to be alert and wary did not stop the voices. There was the usual one, going on a rant about a good gun and a knife, but there were other ones too. The one he heard loudest was the one of Richard Nixon.

“You’ll do your country proud, son!” Richard Nixon said.

Andrew said nothing, not wanting to bring Dooley’s attention to the Presidential ghost. He was sure it had to be a ghost, since he seemed the most aware of what was going on.

“Just remember to stay on target!” Nixon added.

Andrew took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He saw Dooley glance at him out of the corner of his eye. In fact, Dooley was doing that a lot, to the point that it worried him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I am an ass for cliff hangers.  
> Also...because it was brought up in the comments:  
> In reality, things do not always happen in a romantic sense. The guy does not always stay by her side (and vice versa) and in this case, Melisa sent Glenn home. It is really common for family members to go home, take a break, have a shower, get some food, gather some things for the mother, and then return to the hospital. In this case, Glenn was drained from what he went through and what he witnessed. Melisa is exhausted because she just gave birth to a whole baby, not even a diced one.  
> So yea, Glenn did leave, but with every intention of going back. He is going to bring Melisa some clothes and his camper, so he can stay close with home.


	26. War is Down by the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew has a war down by the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betrayal hurts immensely.
> 
> I did have a scene where Melisa sends Glenn to get her clothes (and chocolate) and some sleep for himself, but I deemed it unnecessary. It was a short and unrelated piece that would have cluttered the story. (As if I don't have enough clutter in stories.)  
> It is common with birthing (especially when there are complications that elongate the time spent in the hospital) that family members return home to get food, water, showers, fresh clothes and some things for the mother (if it is not planned out, which given the panic nobody thought to grab her any clothes.)  
> It gets too tedious to explain everything outright, with a scene for everything. I am already explaining tons of stuff, but I want some subtlety so I am trying not to explain all outright.

Andrew was hyper focused, until they reached the lake. It was so pretty, with the noontime sunlight glistening off of its surface. He immediately decided that he wanted to bring Hugh down here. He imagined the Spy would have some petty tastes about the lakeside.

The Engineer suddenly chuckled, “You seem rather enamored with that water. We should go fishing sometime.”

Fishing sounded like a nice idea. Andrew would like going fishing, though he was not sure the Spy would enjoy the sport himself. Fishing with Dooley no longer sounded like a tasteful idea either, as he felt this loathsome distaste for the man who attacked his love.

“I got fishing poles back at my workshop,” the Engineer offered, “Got ‘em when I found out there was a lake out here.”

“No thanks, Engie,” Andrew said sternly, shifting to sit straight and forward in his seat.

There was a brief silence. Those few moments felt awkward and strange.

“I…I hope you’re not mad at me,” the Engineer said, hesitantly.

“Engie, I need you to tell me the truth,” Andrew said firmly.

“I don’t understand,” the Engineer frowned at him.

“Engineer,” Andrew made his voice a bit fiercer, “I need you to tell me what you are hiding.” He turned in his seat to face the Engineer, “What are you hiding? Why are you turning your back on us?”

Engineer suddenly flinched and got red in the face, “I haven’t turned my back! No! I haven’t turned against anyone!”

“Then why? Why won’t you just tell me the truth?” Andrew pleaded.

“Because-!” the Engineer spat, before he clammed up. He took a breath and turned back to the road. “It’s a very important piece of information,” he explained, “I have to handle it delicately, you know? And to tell you…it needs to be done right.”

Andrew frowned, “How do you mean?”

“Listen,” the Engineer motioned to him with one hand, “Just…let’s get down to the lake where it’s quiet and I’ll tell you everything.”

They proceeded down the road in silence. It was not long before the ambulance pulled off onto the dirt. It did not go far, as they did not want to get the vehicle stuck in mud.

When they clambered out of the vehicle, Andrew followed behind the Engineer. The man did not seem too worried. He actually seemed pretty calm, like he was in his element out here. He stopped by the waterline to take a deep breath.

“You enjoy fishing, Solly?” the Engineer asked.

He hesitated, pondering his answer. He decided to ask a question in response, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

The Engineer hesitated, “It’s…it’s a nickname. You know…Solly. Short for Soldier.”

Andrew nodded slowly. That made sense. Now it was time to focus on the important stuff.

“Engineer, I need you to tell me what you’re hiding,” he said sternly, “No distractions. No diversions. No talking around me like you think I don’t know what you are doing.”

As he explained this, the happy smiling Engineer grew somber. Andrew was a little sad to disappoint him, but not enough to stop. This was too important.

“I am an old man. I have been through and seen shit that has left my mind much less capable than it once was. But I am not stupid enough to be fooled by the wool in your hands,” he told him.

The Engineer stood there, listening silently. He seemed so somber, almost sad. He was staring back at him, his eyes unblinking. The lack of blinking was just a little disturbing to Andrew.

“So, if we _are_ friends, then tell me what is going on,” he added, “Please, Engie.”

The Engineer took a deep breath, “It’s a lot to take. So…I want this…I want this to be done carefully. Okay?”

Andrew nodded in response. He was quiet, waiting expectantly. He would not push too hard that the man clammed up. He needed to back off anyways, probably having stirred the Engineer a few times today from his anger.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh’s heart was pounding in his throat. He was not sure what to focus on within his mind. Sitting in the passenger seat of the camper truck, he realized that he was missing his balaclava too late. His training told him that he needed to keep up his trained calm, to refuse to go to the back to fetch his discarded balaclava. By now it had gotten covered in dirt on the floor.

He felt like he should not be worried about that so much though. Andrew was likely hurt or worse, if the Engineer managed to get him into the car with him. He would not let him think the worse, that the Soldier had willingly climbed into the ambulance with a man who was obviously not trustworthy. He shook himself, consciously refusing to believe that.

“Uhm…” Glenn cleared his throat as they turned, “I think we lost them.”

He muttered a few slurs in French and tried to think of which way they might have gone. He did not have a thorough map in his head, not enough to thick of which way they might have gone. Maybe they were headed to the city. Perhaps the Engineer accidentally injured Andrew, and was going to take him to the hospital for medical treatment. That thought made him grow hot with rage.

“You alright, mate?” Glenn suddenly asked.

He looked at the Sniper through the corner of his eyes, “What?”

“You’re red,” Glenn stated.

“So?” Hugh frowned irritably.

“I’m not used to seeing you turn red,” Glenn stated, “Beneath a blue mask, I mean.” The Sniper chuckled a little at that.

Hugh rolled his eyes. Glenn was not supposed to see his face, not until he was ready to show him. He was going to show him when he was ready for it. He always imagined it would be something kind of special. And now he was rubbing his nose in the whole accident.

“Where would that Engineer go?” he asked himself.

“I’m not sure,” Glenn shook his head.

Their heads both popped up when a familiar car came into view. They shared a look before Glenn opened his door to wave down the RED Spy. Hugh slipped to the back of the vehicle, to fetch his balaclava.

He came out of the back of the camper, strolling over towards Antoine’s car with as much poise as he could manage. That was very little dignity to carry, given how disgustingly dirty his mask felt. The Sniper and the RED Spy both turned to look at him as he approached.

“Have you seen a RED ambulance?” Hugh asked.

“I was just about to say that I did,” Antoine nodded to him, “I don’t know why you’re using ambulances. Those things are old and dangerous. They shouldn’t be on the road.”

“Which way was it going?” Hugh demanded.

“Down towards the lake,” Antoine stated, “What are you chasing it for?”

“The Engineer, Dexter Dooley, has nabbed our Soldier,” Hugh stated.

A look of recognition flashed through Antoine’s eyes. Hugh did not have to tell him for him to know which one he was referring to. Hugh felt his cheeks grow hot, wishing that Antoine knew nothing about his relationship with Andrew.

“He also has information, I guess,” Glenn shrugged.

Hugh eyed Glenn thoughtfully, before he nodded to Antoine, “Perhaps you are already aware, but Dooley is orchestrating the assassination.”

“He’s what?” surprise flashed through Antoine’s eyes. So he did not know.

“Yea,” Glenn pretended to know, “We need to get him back for questioning.”

“Follow my car,” Antoine put one foot into his vehicle, “Be armed and ready.” He sat down and closed his car door before he drove off to turn around.

Glenn tapped his arm and motioned for him to follow him back to the camper. Hugh nodded and quickly clambered into the camper. They followed the RED Spy as requested, heading in the direction he had seen the Engineer go.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The room was so quiet that it was driving Melisa crazy. She was starting to feel bad that she sent Glenn away, at least his gentle snoring would have been a comfort. She could play with his hair while he slept, giving him a bit of happiness and good dreams.

A gentle knock at the door finally interrupted the silence. With a sigh of relief, she turned over onto her back and called, “Come in!”

The door opened to admit the main nurse. She stepped inside and approached the bed, “I’m just here to check your vitals and let you know that the doctor is going to meet with you in a few minutes. If you have anybody you want with you when you receive important news, you should have them in here.”

“Oh…” she hesitated, glancing at her hand. If she had not sent Glenn away, he would be right there, drowsily trying to wake up.

She had known he would not be comfortable here though. He would not sleep well. Even with the closeness of being with Melisa would not comfort him enough. She had sent him to get his camper and things, since she needed clothes and he needed escape from all of the business of the hospital.

She sighed, “Can you see if Glenn Smuther is in the waiting room?”

The nurse nodded, offering her a small smile of condolence. It was likely common for people to leave the hospital, even when they were needed. Melisa just wished she had known that she needed Glenn.

 

*********************************************************************

 

At some point – Andrew did not remember when – he had to sit down. He was seated on a log, while the Engineer next to him slowly and carefully explained things to him. There were the cameras, the establishment of Administration, the many bases all around the world, and then the viewership.

It all made no sense to Andrew, but at the same time it did. Why was this happening? How could this happen to them? Yet, it was a logical state of the company, given the decline of resources, as the Engineer put it.

Then there was the harsher parts. The Engineer explained it all backwards though, giving him details he did not care about. Why was the Engineer so dedicated to protecting Andrew? It should not matter, they were mercenaries from the start, doomed to die if they messed up.

Yet, it seemed that – as the Engineer explained – that it was not because of a mess up. It was not because of Andrew’s mishaps that he would die. No, the Engineer was protecting him because it was the Engineer’s fuck up. It was blackmail, a torture meant to turn the Engineer on his friends and allies, by using Andrew as bait, placing his life on the line.

Andrew was a little flattered. The Engineer would go through so much just for him. He would protect him to the end of the Earth, it seemed. Not that he would ask for that, that just seemed to be over the top. In fact, it felt a little inappropriate, given the boundaries of their friendship. It was just not what _friends_ did.

Then came the part where the Engineer explained why he was protecting Andrew, and how he was doing it. Andrew’s smile, gained from the flattery, slowly faded as the words rolled over in his mind. The truth was out there and the reality of what was happening hit him.

His doubt hit him, giving him a dose of rejection to this new truth. He immediately turned to the Engineer and called him a liar. He demanded to be told the truth. He demanded that the Engineer stop telling him lies about all of this. He demanded to be treated as an equal, with the same level of understanding of any other man.

The Engineer merely shook his head with a somber look on his face. He was not lying. He was not making this up. This was all real for him, and he was telling it like it was.

Andrew stared at him for a few minutes, dumbfounded by the truth. It rolled through his mind again. He tried to add it altogether. He tried to make it fit, but it did not make sense. The Engineer was too kind and soft spoken a person to go out of his way to commit murder. And to murder a woman who was pregnant? That was beyond the Engineer’s character. That was not the friend that Andrew thought he had made.

He rose very suddenly from the log he was seated on. The Engineer watched him, still remaining seated. He probably should not have, given how angry Andrew was.

“You’re telling me…” he paused, giving himself a moment to breathe, “You’ve been the one trying to kill Melisa and the Sniper?!”

“Not the Sniper, no,” the Engineer argued, shaking his head. He remained so calm in the face of an angry Soldier, “Just his girlfriend.”

“You…you want her dead?” he felt his blood boil with outrage.

Melisa was such a kind and sweet young woman. She deserved the best in life. What she wanted was the Sniper, so she deserved that. She wanted her little family, so she deserved that. She did not deserve the pain and stress of an assassin chasing after her.

“You got it all wrong, pal,” the Engineer rose to his feet, holding his hands up defensively, “I don’t _want_ to kill her. I _have_ to.”

Andrew shook his head. He did not understand this. Nothing he had just been told explained that the Engineer had to do anything. He did not have to protect Andrew. He did not have to kill Melisa. He did not have to do any of that.

“No you don’t! You don’t have to do anything!” Andrew spat, a bit irritably.

Suddenly, the distant pop pop sounded off. In the stillness and silence by the lake it was disturbing. The calmness immediately became shattered. Unsure of what was going on, Andrew shook a little, unsure of where it was coming from. He looked around, only to see the beautiful forests and mountain peaks.

He felt a hot sweat start to drip down his sideburn as he pondered the noise. It was like battle was coming. It could have been a Sniper rifle, though it sounded more like a semi-automatic weapon. When a few more pop pops went off, he realized that it was coming closer.

The Engineer was calm as he frowned up at Andrew, “I…I _have_ told you. I _have_ made it clear to you just how much I care. I…I really do care about you, Solly. I want the best for you. Whatever you want…and your safety too. But, it is either Melisa dies, or you.”

He detected a little tear in the Engineer’s eye. The world around him was suddenly shaken, the ground trembling, as if in fear, as an explosion went off. Andrew flinched, but he recovered, not letting himself falter to scorn the Engineer.

“It is _not_ me or Melisa dies!” he declared, “It is not!”

“But it is!” those tears welled up bigger, “I…they take you…hurt you…Solly, I don’t want that for you. That’s…that’s why I am protecting you! That’s what I _meant_! I don’t think you’re stupid, but you just didn’t know!”

A blast came whirring overhead, landing in the trees nearby. The burning smoke filled his nose, but it was not mere burning ash. It had this distinctive bloody scent that reminded him of burning corpses.

He turned his head slightly to the left to see a mountain of burning corpses, while men, most of which were wounded and traumatized, piled them up. He turned his head slightly to the right to see an ocean of bloody red. The sky itself turned red, as the sunlight faded in the distance. A plane buzzed by, carrying explosives to its next victims, or perhaps retreating to reload, so that it might destroy more American soldiers.

He let out a breath he had not known he was holding, as he watched the plane go by. He had to hold himself together, if he was to finish this conversation with the Engineer. He had to get the truth out of him, before he took cover. Before he did anything else, he had to make the Engineer finish what he was telling him, or else he might never get the truth.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” the Engineer was pleading with him.

He rounded on the Texan, “It is _not_ me or Melisa!”

“Solly, I know you’re a good hearted man and you mean well,” the Engineer was patronizing him now, “But you have to understand…I meant well! I do mean well! I just want what-”

Andrew was fed up with all of this bullshit. Truth or lies, it was like venom on his ears. This man was a traitor, and wanted an innocent civilian dead. His friend no less.

He barely hesitated after the Engineer fell, touching the blood on his lip, which he could see on the Soldier’s knuckles. It felt good to hit something. There was something building up, an angry tormenting concept that scratched him at the back of his mind. It pulled at him and nagged him for the need to beat the crap out of somebody.

All around him, the world was red. Color meant nothing. There was nothing black, as it had been filled with a red tint. Nothing was white, because the purest of pure things had been tainted by blood. It was all disgusting, and he stood in the midst of it, his boots now soaking in the shallows of it.

“How could you do that?!” Andrew roared, “How could you turn your back on people like that? How could you do that to Melisa? She’s just a civilian! She has a child on the way!”

“Th-that’s the problem!” the Engineer protested, holding up one hand in defense, “She’s a liability! She’s distracting the Sniper. She’s making him want to go away! It’s…it’s not good business for Mann Co Productions!”

“I don’t care!” Andrew reached down, taking the shorter man by the collar of his shirt. His peripheral vision felt blurred with red, and all he could see was the Engineer’s face. He could hear gunshots though, as they surrounded him with the screams of men dying. “You do not get to choose that!” he roared.

“I didn’t choose!” the Engineer pleaded, his hands taking Andrew’s wrists, “Please, Solly! Just listen to me! I didn’t choose! I-I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t for your life on the line! And if I didn’t do it they would j-”

He silenced him with his knuckles. The man’s head turned with the punch and he spat blood. He let the man recover for a moment, waited for him to look back into his eyes, before he continued.

“Who are you to choose what’s right?” he laid another knuckles-first smack across the Engineer’s mouth, “Who are you to say one life is worth more than another?!” He used his other hand this time.

“Soldier stop!” the Engineer tried to push him away, one hand on a wrist and the other pushing at his chest.

Andrew was stronger than him. He was bigger and stronger, something he knew well. He did not have to put much effort into fighting the Engineer. And as the battle raged on around him, with explosions shaking the ground, he felt like he was more and more in his element.

“You listen here, maggot!” he roared in the Engineer’s face, “You have no place here, betraying others and choosing fates!”

“I just-” the Engineer had no chance to protest this time. Andrew would not allow his bullshit to spill from his mouth.

“I don’t take too kindly to traitors!” he roared.

“I’m not a traitor!” the Engineer argued, “Please! Soldier! I haven’t betrayed anyone!”

“Do you have any idea what we do to dirty little rats like you, in the United States Marine Corps?” he growled.

The Engineer’s eyes were wide, terrified as he stared back into Andrew’s gaze. His lack of response only angered him further. He gave the man a solid shove, causing him to fall to the ground. There was no time to go and find things to string him up for the enemy to see his body, to make an example of him, so he would settle for a bare-handed killing.

“Soldier- I…please understand!” the Engineer pleaded.

Andrew dropped to his knees on top of him, pinning the smaller man down. They were fairly equal in weight, but the Engineer’s lack of muscle made him unshapely for heavy lifting. He could not stop the Soldier from forcing him to the ground on his back and punching him.

A rock caught the corner of his eye. With a quick thought, he grabbed the object. It was the perfect weapon that nature provided.

“Soldier, stop!” a voice called from a great distance. It was so foggy he could barely hear it. He dismissed it and tried to ignore it. “Stop! Stoooop!”

He had the rock raised over his head when he glanced over at the approaching figures. There were two people running towards him. He could not recognize them at first, but they seemed real enough.

His grip on the rock loosened a little. He looked down at the man he was assaulting. He was a traitor and a scoundrel. He was attempting murder. He had betrayed Andrew and everyone else. He was their enemy, and he deserved to be killed and strung up where his coconspirators could see.

His grip tightened on the rock as he prepared to strike. He grit his teeth and glared at the man. He would not be dissuaded from destroying this piece of dirt.

“Andrew, stop!” that familiar voice tickled at his mind. That had to be a fake though, something that was in his head. “Stop! It’s not worth it!” the voice called again.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye. French attire, a blue balaclava, and blood on his leather gloves, the Spy looked to be a cross between the perfect killer and a gorgeous one. He would have liked to burn his image into his mind’s eye.

“Andrew?” the Spy’s face looked perplexed for a moment. The Sniper joined up behind him, hurrying towards them with his semi-automatic raised.

He used his free hand to grab the front of the Engineer’s shirt, “This bastard has betrayed us all! He’s a traitor! And you know what we do to traitors?!”

He was ready to strike again, the muscles in his arm tightening, prepped to thrust down upon the man’s face.

“Andrew no!” Hugh’s voice gripped him.

“Traitors deserve death!” he roared, infuriated. He could not let this go, not with everything on the line, and not after what the Engineer had done.

“Andrew, where are you?!” Hugh pleaded.

Andrew closed his eyes. He was not sure what to do or say. He had to kill his enemies. He had to end this traitor.

“Andrew!” Hugh called out to him.

“I don’t know!” Andrew shouted, “I don’t care!”

“Andrew, please!” Hugh pleaded. It was the only thing that had stopped him from laying the rock over the traitor’s face so far.

“I don’t let traitors get by me!” Andrew roared with anger.

“Andrew, come back to me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Andrew, come back to me!"  
> T_T
> 
> I am curious about something slightly unrelated. What do you call a story about self-love?


	27. Unbreakable Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is apparently steadfast in his loyalty and trust to the Spy. What a relief.

“Andrew, come back to me!” the voice repeated several times.

It did not really hit him until a hand hit him. He was stunned for a moment, blinking confusedly. He turned his eyes upward to see the Spy crouching. His brows were drawn down and his lips were tightened. There was extreme focus and concern in the man’s eyes.

Andrew blinked up at him, reeling back a bit. The man was so close to him, he could smell the ash of his breath. He could also smell the sweet pastries he had eaten earlier this morning, with a hint of honey. His eyes came to lay on the dirty mask, and traced up to his eye, where the skin was changing color and swelling a bit. A mark the Engineer had left, to try and shut the Spy up.

“Andrew, please,” the Spy pleaded, “Look at me! Come back to me!”

Andrew stared at him for a while, before he spoke, “I’m fine! I-I’m fine now. I’m okay.”

“No…” Hugh’s eyes glistened as he shook his head, “Put the rock down, Andrew.”

He looked at the object in his hand. He was going to paint it with the Engineer’s blood. He had gotten so wrapped up in feeling betrayed that he had forgotten the man he was about to smash. He had forgotten that it was the Engineer he was pinning to the ground.

Hugh’s voice softened, “Andrew?”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh’s voice felt hoarse, as tears welled and his throat built a lump. He tried to swallow it down, tried to push tears back. He needed some form of composure in front of the Engineer and the Sniper, but it was increasingly difficult to do. He could hardly suppress his emotions though, as he looked at Andrew.

The man, a kind hearted and sweet dork, was gritting his teeth as he glared down at the RED Engineer. There was this look in his eyes, like he no longer recognized the Engineer, and no longer recognized himself. While Hugh did not care what happened to the Engineer, he cared about what happened to Andrew, even in his mind.

What had the Engineer said? What had he done? What had driven Andrew to this state of mind? There was usually panic or defensiveness, but Hugh never remembered seeing him look so angry and blood thirsty.

He seemed so caught up in what was going on in his head, as if reality had slipped his grip. He kept fighting Hugh this time, staying in whatever was making him so angry. He was staying in his own world, where he saw the Engineer as not a man who was his friend, but a traitor. He had no doubt that Andrew’s mind had him in a war setting, where everything did happen so quickly that a traitor was offed and hung as an example for other would-be traitors.

“Andrew?” Hugh pleaded softly.

Andrew finally met his eyes. His gaze barely changed, showing frustration, anger and a small hint of fear. He looked down at the rock in his hand, finally lowering his hand to let it roll away from him.

Hugh swallowed the lump in his throat, watching the Soldier. He had to be careful, unsure of just how fragile he was at the moment. Such a strong and coarse man would have made him think he could blunder his way through this, and that was probably what the Engineer had thought, but he knew that he had to be tediously cautious with Andrew.

Andrew was about to get off of the Engineer, when the Texan spoke, “He knows too, though.”

Andrew turned back to the Engineer at that. Hugh opened his mouth, wanting to shut the Engineer up. Then he remembered the lump in his throat, wishing not to address the Texan with weakness in his tone.

“The Spy knows. He knew all along. _He_ didn’t tell you!” the Engineer spat.

Hugh swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to speak. He could not speak. He could not make a proper sound come from his throat anymore. It was not even because of the lump there anymore.

“You should stop digging your grave, RED,” the Sniper growled, bringing his gun up to aim at the American’s head.

Andrew said nothing as he forced himself to his feet. He teetered a little, pausing to look around. The world must have looked so different to his eyes at this time. Hugh did not wonder what it was like, he did not want to know – or experience – that kind of pain.

Hugh rose with him. He could not take his eyes away from the Soldier. He had to explain himself somehow. He had to make it clear that he was sorry for not telling him the truth. Perhaps that was what the Engineer had done, undoing everything by revealing all truths to the man in a careless manner.

He finally managed to start saying the man’s name, when suddenly he charged into him. Hugh was startled at first, unsure of what was happening. He sighed in relief when the Soldier’s arms wrapped around him and his face buried into Hugh’s jacket.

He took a deep breath as he placed one hand on his back and the other in his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed carefully. He was so relieved that he wanted to cry. His fingers teased through the back of Andrew’s hair, as he tried to gather his wits to say something.

He opened an eye to see the Sniper pulling the Engineer off the ground, his gun barrel never leaving the man’s face. The Sniper was rough with him, purposefully making getting to his feet difficult and painful. He added a purposeful bump to the head with the butt of his gun, for added measure.

Hugh closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Andrew was shaking in his arms though. Thick arms tightened around him, practically restricting him and making him feel alarmed. He forced himself to be outwardly relaxed, while in a vice grip.

“My back aches,” Andrew muttered.

Hugh nodded, to nobody in particular, “Let’s get you back to base.”

Glenn took his cue and started leading the Engineer by the collar of his shirt towards the vehicles. There were three vehicles to drive back now, the camper, the RED Spy’s car and the ambulance. Of course, they could abandon the ambulance, but Hugh figured there would likely be a penalty for them losing a Mann Co vehicle, even if it _did_ belong to RED.

“I take it things did not go so well?” the RED Spy asked, as Hugh approached with Andrew clinging to him.

The Soldier seemed desperate to hold him. He must have been in extreme pain, on top of his inner turmoil. His hands were clawing at him, like he could barely hold himself up.

Hugh glanced between Antoine and Glenn briefly, “Let the Spy handle his teammate.”

Glenn did a double take, “What?”

“Hand him over,” Hugh nodded, “We’ve dealt with enough f-”

“N-y-wait!” Andrew fumbled.

Hugh put a hand on top of his head and spoke softly, “He’ll be fine.”

“I…you…” Andrew finally let go of Hugh enough to look at the RED Spy.

The exchange lasted only a few seconds, but there was so much in those few seconds. Andrew’s face contorted, remembering his old hatred for this Spy. He had conflict and a desire to protect his Texan friend, even if he had been on the brink of killing that man himself.

“D-don’t hurt him,” Andrew’s plea was so weak, not like a trained professional like Antoine would listen to it.

Antoine responded by merely shifting his cigarette to the other side of his mouth, “Worry not, mon ami.”

Something struck Andrew and the Soldier in him snapped back to life. His back straightened, even though it was in so much pain. His face stiffened and his expression became stern. He lost all pretense of pain and suffering. It was like everything that had happened was but a story – one that never happened, and he never heard of it.

“I am not your friend, you backstabbing scum!” he raised his voice a little, with heat in his tone.

Antoine responded by simply raising his hands in defense. He was not put off by the Soldier though. He barely even blinked at him.

“Very well then,” was Antoine’s statement. He looked to Hugh and nodded to him. When Hugh returned the nod, he spoke in French, “Until next time, my old friend. It may be that we will cross paths as allies again in the near future.”

“I doubt that,” Hugh hummed thoughtfully, “But keep thinking more positive. It is a more endearing quality to you.”

Antoine rolled his eyes and opened his car door for the Sniper to escort the Engineer. Once the Engineer was settled there, the Spy drove off, leaving the other three men there alone.

Glenn turned to Hugh, “So uh…what do we do about their ambulance?”

“I’ll drive it back,” Hugh stated, “You take the camper. We’ll follow you in the ambulance.”

Glenn nodded and did not argue. He was probably glad to have some time to himself, after everything that had happened. He looked very tired, so Hugh figured he was drained of energy for socializing. It was time to give him his quiet peace.

Andrew stood there, breathing heavily for a while, before Hugh tugged at his arm. He turned his head, looking up at him with this stern look that crossed towards desperation. It shook Hugh up, as he wanted to better understand that expression.

The Sniper drove off without them, not even waiting for them to enter the ambulance. That was fairly rude, but Hugh paid it no mind. He could find his own way back just fine. Besides, he needed to focus on the Soldier.

“Is it true that you knew?” Andrew’s eyes suddenly pleaded with him.

Hugh’s heart sank, “I’ve…known for a while.” The admission felt like a prison sentence.

Andrew’s brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth sank, “You didn’t trust me to tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Hugh looked at him with fondness and despair, “It would have risked everything. And…is it better now that you know? Is anything better now that you know what Mann Co has become?”

Andrew thought about that for a minute. His gaze dropped down to the ground at his feet. They shuffled in the dirt and grass, kicking at a stray bug.

“No,” he finally raised his head to look at Hugh.

“Imagine my hurt when I found out,” Hugh explained, “It was after they relocated you. But, to stay in their good graces and have you back I had to play by their rules. You understand that?”

Andrew nodded slowly, “I suppose that makes sense.” He did not sound very confident in his response.

“Andrew, you know I would have told you if I could,” he pleaded with him, “That entire base is bugged. Everywhere is bugged. The trees are bugged.”

“The cameras…” Andrew muttered, “The trees…have cameras…”

“And now…I imagine you only have an endless amount of questions that I cannot even answer,” Hugh admitted.

“Why can’t you? Can’t you? Or won’t you?” Andrew asked, trying to sound wise or something.

“I cannot,” he stated, shaking his head, “I don’t even…have the answers for myself. I have so many questions and not enough answers.”

“What about the ones to what’s going on?” Andrew asked, “What about the people trying to kill Melisa.”

“It was all the Engineer,” he sighed, “I only just figured it out before he attacked me. I- Why did you get into the car with him?” His sudden question felt jarring, even to him, but he could not help his curiosity.

“I didn’t trust him,” Andrew stated, “But, I had to know. I had to find the truth. He won’t trust you…or Sniper…but he trusts me…or at least he did.” His gaze sunk to the ground with a look of shame. “We were friends once, back in Mexico,” Andrew muttered.

Hugh reached out to touch Andrew’s cheek with a gloved hand. He frowned, frustrated with himself, before he roughly pulled the glove from his hand, baring his cold fingers to touch the Soldier’s warm face. Andrew’s head jerked up to look him in the eye, a look that melted his heart a little.

“You…Do you trust me still, Soldier?” Hugh asked, feeling so uncertain and afraid of the answer. If the man lied, it would only hurt worse. If he told him he would never trust him again, life would feel over.

“Strangely enough,” Andrew put a large palm over the hand on his cheek, “I cannot pry my trust from you. You only ever mean well. And…even though Engie meant well, you aren’t the one out for blood for it.”

Hugh chuckled awkwardly. He started to think on the circumstances. What if he had known that they were threatening his Soldier’s life? Surely they could not have been serious about harming him, given the contract agreement. It must have been a bluff that the Engineer had fallen for.

He took a deep breath, pushing thoughts about anger and revenge away from his mind. His fingers moved up over Andrew’s ear to push through his hair. It had gotten fairly long in the past weeks, making it a perfect length to feel between his fingers.

“We should go,” Andrew said, suddenly sounding anxious.

“Are you okay?” Hugh asked, immediately concerned.

“I will be, when we are away from here,” Andrew stated firmly.

Hugh nodded and headed to the driver’s side of the ambulance. It would take a decent amount of maneuvering to get it turned around before they could head out. For that time, he let Andrew pick out a station on the radio to relax to.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was happiest when they were finally at the base. Hugh allowed him to come straight to his personal room, a request that took him off guard. As soon as they were in Hugh’s little private space, he went straight for the mask. Hugh was taken by surprise, and almost looked a little scared. Andrew was certain of what he was doing though, when he rolled it up the man’s neck to reveal soft pale skin. Then he pushed it up and over his jawline, until it easily slid off of his head.

His hair became a sort of entity of floof all of its own. Matted from dried sweat in places, and tussled in others, it had a mind of its own, though the Spy attempted to come through it with his fingers. Andrew took to the hair with his own fingers, using it as leverage to pull the Spy closer when he wanted to.

He could control the intervals of gentle kisses and hugs. One hand remained in Hugh’s hair and the other braced against his lower back. Eventually he realized that he could not stand much longer, so he laid down to relax.

Hugh stretched out beside him, but he did not stay awake for more kisses. He became reminded of his exhaustion and soon drifted off. Andrew did not mind though, snuggling his prone form and playing with the velvet black and gray hair.

There was so much to think about. He was in a safe place to just sit and think now. The voices had not gone, lingering somewhere just outside of the door. He had thought that he left the redness behind at the lake, but Nixon and that color followed him back. Even that vision of the Spy’s outfit being a French Soldier uniform was still burned into his mind, though at least that was something nice to look at.

He let his mind wander from the troubles of what he had learned. He almost wanted to forget. He wanted to let his mind do its own thing, letting him be the crazy and forgetful old man he was, so he could go on the way he used to. If not for himself, then at least for Hugh, who seemed to feel so guilty for not telling him.

It was for the best, Andrew told himself. If the Spy had told him, it would have been a weird kind of hell. The Engineer bringing it upon him was like a harsh reckoning. In the grand scheme of things, the Engineer did not have to tell him. He did not ask to know about Mann Co’s business. He asked to know who was out to kill Melisa, or at least he thought he had been clear on that.

The Engineer laid his soul out, and Andrew had probably broken it. Lost in his mind, he had forgotten that they were friends. He had forgotten that they were no the foes that RED and BLU made them out to be. They were pals, once upon a time, and still could have been.

He could not be friends with a murderer though. He reminded himself that in spite of it all, the Engineer had _chosen_ to attack a helpless and harmless woman. And a woman with child, no less! How could he forgive himself for that? How could Andrew forgive him for that?

He let those thoughts drift away again, as he stroked the Spy’s hair. It was nice to be this close in private silence again. Spy even clung to him a little in his sleep, making the need for closeness and comfort feel mutual. Spy might as well have been having a nightmare in his dreams, while Andrew was still in the nightmare of Richard Nixon floating around scolding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if enough of the emotion I felt writing this was expressed here. There was so much going on in Andrew's mind and Hugh's mind.
> 
> I will get back to baby and Melisa part of the plot soon, don't you worry.


	28. A Rush Back to the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn wakes up to realize that he fucked up.  
> Spy is feeling a bit irritable, but just a little flattered about names.

Glenn dragged himself sleepily from the trailer. The sunlight was burning his eyes and the wintry weather welcomed him. It was not like home, but then again that was the nice part.

He looked at the clock to see it was a quarter past eleven. What a nice time of the day to be out in this wooded area. Especially when there were animals about. A woodpecker was lacking wariness, as it searched for bugs beneath the bark of a tree. Various other birds were singing, calling to each other in their mother tongues like social butterflies. Nearby, a squirrel rustled the brush. A family of porcupines passed through, huffing and snorting as they searched for a midday meal.

He sighed and thought about how much he enjoyed this. A relaxing wildlife lifestyle with nothing to do. He had the day to enjoy the smell and sight of the mountains. Melisa would love this too.

Dread struck him down as he realized he had slept away the hours. He had left Melisa at the hospital and slept away much of the morning. Of course, he had intended to sleep, but not until after he got back to the hospital. For a few moments, he just stood there, dumbfounded.

When he started moving, he grabbed his coat and charged to the base. Panic was boiling through his veins as he hurried to the Spy’s room. He rarely went there, and was not even sure if the man slept in there. He could be somewhere else entirely, he was so secretive.

The Spy originally had his own bedroom, a place that everybody knew he slept. He must have been staying there temporarily, because he did not stay there long. That room was vacated and used for storage, leaving everyone to wonder where the Spy slept.

“Spy!” he called as he banged on the door, “Spy open up!”

There was a bit of noise coming from the other side of the room. It was clumsy and seemed to fumble around. It almost seemed to loud to be the Spy. He waited though, listening intently for the Spy’s arrival. When it did not come fast enough, he tested the door handle, and found it locked.

“Come on, Spy! Open up!” he called.

“Gimme a minute!” an American voice responded.

He frowned, before realization hit him. He only had time to step away from the door before it opened to show the Soldier. He was all dressed up in a new outfit now, with a helmet on. He tilted the hat up so he could look at the Sniper.

“Give him a minute, he’s in the shower,” the Soldier stated.

Heat bloomed on his cheeks as Glenn nodded. Normally that would not bother him. The team shared communal showers. But, Spy was gay now – well, he always was but now Glenn was aware of it – and nobody ever knew what Spy did to keep clean cause they never saw him in the communal showers. Thinking about him taking a shower was something Glenn did not _want_ to ponder.

The Soldier let his helmet drop as his own cheeks started turning red, “You don’t have to make such a deal out of it.”

Glenn cleared his throat, “I only just realized…I have wasted a lot of time here, but I need to get back to Melisa.”

“Then go,” the Soldier commanded, without a second thought.

He shrugged at the Soldier, “Well, I gotta-”

“No, you have wasted too much time,” the Soldier reached out to squeeze the Sniper’s arm, “You need to go.”

Glenn shook the hand off of his arm, “I want to bring Spy with me.”

“She needs you there, Glenn,” the Soldier said, with a look of gentle firmness in his eyes.

“I know she does,” Glenn gave a curt nod, “But, I need him there!”

The Soldier gave him a confused look. Glenn sighed, feeling like he was at a loss. There was not changing the Soldier’s ways. He was as crazy as he always was – which made him wonder what the hell the Spy saw in him.

“What is going on?” the Spy’s voice picked up from behind the Soldier. The door widened to show the Spy making his way across the room, carefully adjusting the buttons on his sleeve.

“I am heading back to the hospital,” Glenn’s face felt redder than before, “I wanted to bring you with me?”

“Me? Why?” the Spy had such an aloof nature that it was infuriating at times.

He was good at reading people, and he was very good at making them dance on his strings. It was like the world’s people were his puppets. Being ungraceful in the art of socializing, Glenn always felt like the easiest puppet. Still, there was something very comforting about the Spy that other socialites did not offer him.

“I just…Melisa’s going through hell. I don’t even know if the baby survived. And I’m going back down there to find out. I want you there with me when I have to hear the news,” Glenn said, feeling pain as he halfway admitted that the child might be dead and their dreams crushed.

The Spy nodded slowly, “Let’s go then.”

 

Glenn was glad that the Spy was not going to question him further. The more he had to think about it, the more embarrassed Glenn felt. It was like asking the Spy to escort him. It was like a child asking a parent to take them to the bathroom.

The thoughts did not last too long when they pulled up to the hospital. The place was busy, with several ambulances bringing injured people to the emergency room. Several groups of people were hurrying women in wheelchairs towards the maternity ward, while rain came down upon the parking lot.

“Many children are born this day!” the Soldier announced in an almost proud sort of sense. He probably meant it with pride that new Americans were being born on American soil.

Spy merely grunted in response. He did not seem to give the Soldier’s madness much thought. Maybe it was that he just ignored it. There could very well be an element to the Soldier that the Sniper just could not see, looking past all of that insanity. But, Glenn could not see it, and so the relationship puzzled him.

He strode on past both of the other men. He was eager to get back to Melisa’s bedside. He was very anxious to know how she was doing, and was already full of apologies for his lateness. He should have been back hours ago to check up on her. That alone made him feel ashamed.

He did not bother with the visitor’s desk, the three of them slipping through behind another patient who was admitted. They hurried through the building, headed for her room. When they stormed in, not caring to knock, they were surprised to find the room empty.

He immediately spun and rushed a nurse’s desk. This startled her right out of her seat. He mumbled an apology before he spoke.

“I am looking for Melisa Traveston,” he stated.

“Traveston?” the nurse blinked at him, astounded by his question.

“Melisa! My girlfriend!” he demanded, pointing at the door he just left, “She was in there when I left! She had a child late last night!”

The nurse mouthed some more words, trying to formulate a thought. Another nurse stepped up to help her, “Miss Traveston was moved earlier this morning. She is in the Operations Recovery area.”

The woman paused, writing something on a piece of paper. Glenn started to turn towards the Spy when she suddenly smacked his breast. He looked down, astounded by the yellow piece of paper that stuck to his shirt.

“Take the elevator to the fifth floor,” she ordered, “You should find your way to her room from there.”

Glenn nodded to her and mumbled, “Thanks.”

He turned and took the lead to the elevator. The Spy and Soldier both followed him, quieter than mice. There was not so much as a comment from the Soldier, which seemed a little strange.

When they found the room, Spy and Soldier waited outside. He was relieved to step into a room with a television on. She was laying on her back, with the remote in one hand, and a bored look on her face. Her eyes turned and her face lit up when she saw him.

He quickly closed the distance between them and dropped down so he could hug her. She had tears in her eyes by this time and he feared the worst. He said nothing though and gave her only smiles.

“Sorry I’m late, love,” he smiled at her fondly, “How are you?”

“Hon…” she paused, looking at his awkward stance, bent over the bed, “Please sit down.”

He obeyed, placind his rump on the edge of the bed. His hand meandered across her body, searching for her hand. When he found it, he squeezed the fingers, glad to finally feel the panic ebb away from his chest.

 

*********************************************************************

 

There was a strange tension in the air. Hugh could not place it, but he could not shake it either. He stood there, his arms crossed, wondering just what was on Andrew’s mind. He was too intimidated to ask though, unsure of what kind of answer he would get.

Suddenly, the Soldier turned to him. He was not sure what to do or say though. For once, he was tongue tied and unable to interpret the situation.

“Hugh?” Andrew interrupted his momentary panic.

“Yes?” he offered a calm smile.

“I know it doesn’t matter so much if I know or not…” Andrew licked his lips as he thought about what he wanted to say, “Or…well…I am not sure what is important anymore…or what matters anymore.” The Soldier looked so forlorn at that. His shoulders sagged under some invisible weight. “I don’t even know how to put my thoughts into words,” he sighed.

Hugh frowned and stepped closer, laying an arm over his shoulders. He wanted to offer some form of comfort. He looked so down and upset. It was a strong contrast to the pleased and relaxed man who had cuddled him through a nap in his room.

“I guess…” Andrew sighed, leaning into Hugh’s body, “I guess now that I think about it, things were just simpler when I did not know things. When I was unaware of all of this, things were much…much simpler.”

Hugh frowned and squeezed his arm. Things could never be simple. Things never would have been simple if they tried to stay out of it all.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he heard the door handle to the room click. Both of them jerked, standing erect, with their hands to themselves, like children who had been caught with the cookie jar in hand. When the Sniper stepped out, he got a wary and suspicious look in his eye upon seeing them.

He turned to Hugh, “May I speak with you?”

Hugh nodded in agreement, “Yes of course.”

Glenn frowned at Andrew. The Soldier gave no response back. His face was fairly blank.

“I’d like to talk to you alone,” the Sniper insisted.

Hugh shook his head, “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Andrew.” That elicited a low growl of irritation from the Sniper.

Andrew gave Hugh a forced smile. It was a strange and big smile, but it was definitely forced. “I’ll go and visit Melisa,” he stepped towards the door, “You two talk.” Andrew slipped inside the room, leaving the two taller men alone.

Glenn sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “That boyfriend of yours is kinda weird.”

Hugh suppressed his irritation, but not a small twitch in his face, “What did you want to talk about?”

“The baby,” he said, with a depressed frown.

“What about it?” Hugh put a little more distance between himself and the Sniper, crossing his arms with a bit of irritation.

“ _She_ is dying,” Glenn explained, “The doctors say there are treatments for her, but we are not sure we can go through with them.”

“What does that mean?” Hugh asked.

Glenn’s head sank a little towards the floor, his gaze glazing over, “It means I am losing all of my life’s savings, every penny and dollar I have if I try to save her. And then she will be put on life support, pills, and other treatments for the rest of her life, something I will have to work my ass off to afford.” Something like a small tear filled his eye, before he roughly brushed it away. “Dammit! Why did Melisa go and make that child so damn endearing, I am already selling my soul for her!”

Hugh felt a bit stunned, caught between the Sniper’s emotional moment and the reality that was the baby. It was a baby human, a girl no less. He did not know how to feel about the Sniper having a baby girl.

“What do you want me to say about it?” Hugh asked, remaining as detached as he could manage.

That pissed the Sniper off, scoffing and flinging a hand to back hand the Spy’s crossed arms, “You’re my best friend, and a tactician. Give me a bit of fucking logic here! Help me!” His facial expression slowly changed from frustration to sadness and pain. “Please? I need to know, what should I do?”

Hugh hesitated, thinking over the request. It was not often that the Sniper came to him asking for advice. And here he seemed to be pleading him for it. It felt rather nice, though it would have felt even grander if it had come long ago.

“How much do you want this child?” he asked.

Glenn tightened his hands into fists several times, his body tensing and his lips contorting as they wished to snarl. He further suppressed his anger until the movements and tension subsided entirely. When he was finally calm, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“I don’t want her to die,” he told Hugh, “Melisa and I…we want her. She might be a bit broken, but she is ours. She is…she should be…my little girl.” Tears were building up in his eyes as he spoke, a lump forming in his throat. “It isn’t right that there would be an option to give up on her. Why is there nobody stopping us from giving up?”

“Because life isn’t fair,” Hugh spoke curtly, “Life throws you nasty ways of living. Life throws you events you did not plan for. It takes you as a man and breaks you back down into a small boy again.”

Glenn listened intently, a single tear dripping down his face. How odd that he seemed so childish now. He never cried openly. He never showed so much emotion. And he was displaying it all out in the open for the Spy to see.

“Don’t cry like that, it’s unbecoming of you,” Hugh pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the tears on Glenn’s cheeks.

“I cannot help it,” Glenn sniffed. He did not stop Hugh though.

“Yes you can, you’re a man, not a child,” the Spy stated, “And a mercenary no less.”

Glenn’s eyes dropped to the floor and his voice lowered, “I don’t want to be.”

“I’m sorry?” Hugh leaned closer, trying to hear him better.

Glenn raised his voice a little, “I said I don’t wanna be a mercenary!”

Hugh was unabashed and unsurprised by this proclamation. This was nothing new. He had been talking about leaving the business for a long time. The reality was much different though, given that not working meant no money and that meant he could not pay for the baby’s treatments.

“What’s more important? Quitting? Or the baby?” Hugh asked.

There was a strange revelation that came across Glenn’s face. He only just now seemed to realize this reality presented to him. He was quiet, standing there with this dumbfounded look on his face that Hugh could not have described in words. He wanted to smack it off of him.

“You need a lot of money to keep that baby alive and healthy,” Hugh noted, pondering the situation, “And if you leave the job, then you leave the income. And from the sounds of it, you need that income.”

Glenn blinked a few times, taken aback and stunned by this information. He had not thought about this beforehand. That frustrated Hugh to no ends. People like Glenn had such a tendency to make decisions without looking at the facts of a situation in an objective manner.

“Okay…okay I get it,” Glenn rubbed his eyes with his sleeves.

“You get it?” Hugh inquired.

“Yea,” Glenn sniffled and then sighed.

“Good, I would hate to have to reiterate myself,” Hugh said, with a fake haughty air about himself. He felt like smiling a little at having helped to guide his friend down a logical path.

“Oh…and uh…” Glenn put on a smile, “Melisa and I are talking about names.”

“And?” Hugh asked, with disinterest.

“We want your opinion about it,” Glenn’s smile got a little bigger.

“Well then?” Hugh motioned for him to hurry up, “Out with it!”

“Well, we just thought we ought to have the godfather’s opinion about the name,” Glenn was grinning from ear to ear like an idiot.

“What?” Hugh was not humored by this joke.

“So what do you think, Jack?” Glenn got this relaxed look about himself, still grinning like an idiot.

“What?” Hugh responded again, confused by the nickname.

“So we thought of Jacqueline,” he explained, “Jackie for short. Or Rene.”

Hugh pondered this quietly. The connections were not lost on him, though he was not understanding why he was doing this. He decided not to play along.

“Why? Why those two names?” he inquired.

The Sniper thought he would get away with pulling wool over his eyes once more, “Well…they’re just names that we thought would-”

“I am not an idiot,” Hugh raised a hand to silence him, “I know where you got the idea for those names.”

Glenn lost some of his smile, “Aww…come on Spy! Have a bit of fun!” That smile just got awkward the more that Hugh looked at it. “I wanted to name the kid after you if it was a boy. I told Melisa, and she thought that a girl could be similarly named after you.”

Hugh raised a curious eyebrow at him. He supposed he should be flattered. That was the intention of this, right? He was supposed to feel grateful that his friend wanted to name a child after him. He could not help but feel disconnected from that feeling though.

“You’ll help me with the name, won’t you?” Glenn pleaded.

Hugh gave him a cross look, “I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why Spy feels so irritable in this one. Maybe it is because he is tired. And he just wants things to stop fucking with his Soldier. I would probably be the same way.  
> Andrew is quietly trying to decide how he feels about Mann Co Productions. He is trying to decide how he feels about the Spy knowing and not telling him.


	29. It's a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a baby girl and she is very weak. Melisa and Glenn meet their daughter for the first time.  
> Melisa invites Spy in to meet her too.  
> They decide on her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You catch what I did there? 'her name'  
> Ohoho...you thought the previous chapter was precious, did you?

Glenn smiled awkwardly when the nurse opened the door to the baby area. Melisa and himself would be admitted to see their little girl close up. Spy and Soldier would wait outside, looking through a window.

His heart was pounding loudly at the thought of meeting his daughter. He had to think through that concept though. This was his daughter. This was his little baby, his kin and offspring.

“Are you ready?” Melisa asked him softly.

“I don’t think I can be ready,” he said, admitting to himself just how shaky he was.

“So you’re nervous?” she asked. He simply nodded in response, as he pushed her wheelchair along behind the nurse. “Me too,” her head bobbed.

They came to a lit up glass box that sat upon a table. It had weird wiring and was framed in metal. Inside, upon soft white blankets, was a tiny red baby, looking too small to be real and too red to be human. Its eyes were closed and its hands were clenched, so it could not see or touch the glass hiding it from the world.

Tubes went into the baby’s mouth and nose, pumping what he could only guess was oxygen and other things it needed to stay alive. There was even a needle going into its arm, which seemed dangerous for such a frail thing. When it writhed, he winced, clenching his teeth and tightening his grip on the wheelchair. It looked like misery.

“Is she…okay?” Melisa asked, hesitantly.

The nurse nodded in response, “She is feeling better than she looks. She will be okay. She just has to have oxygen running to her lungs right now. She cannot breathe for herself.”

Melisa put a hand to the glass, “She looks so distraught.”

“It is just because her body did not finish developing before birth,” the nurse explained, with a mournful look on her face.

“She was premature,” Melisa nodded. It was not a question, but rather a statement. But, this was something Glenn did not know, so maybe it was for his knowledge more than anything.

“Would you like to touch her?” the nurse asked.

“I want to hold her,” a sob escaped Melisa’s throat.

“We cannot have you move her right now, but you can touch her,” the nurse said, as gently as she could manage.

“Okay,” Melisa nodded.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as Glenn helped her out of the wheelchair. He kept a tight hold on her while the nurse let her slip her hand into an opening they revealed. Her feminine fingers gently stroked the baby’s arm, slowly touching and feeling the red skin. The baby flinched and moved, but she did not seem the worse for wear. She seemed to like the touch and want to find out what was close to her.

“Oh my God,” Melisa breathed, “Glenn, you should touch her.” She sniffled as she pulled her hand away.

Heat bloomed into his face, “What? No!”

He looked from the baby to his hand. His hands were big, callused from work and worn down from years of hard labor. They could barely feel the pain of being pinched when he reloaded a rifle too fast, he could not imagine being able to be gentle with something so dear and fragile.

“Go on,” she took his wrist, guiding him towards the square hole opened up by the nurse. The nurse was smiling, and Melisa was urging him.

He bit down on the inside of his lip as he hesitantly reached into the box. His hand was shaking when he brushed the backs of his fingers against soft newborn skin. The child shuddered and her arms raised. She flung her arms around and gave an aggressive kick, before huffing with what seemed like frustration. He could not be sure why she was doing this, but it did not seem like she enjoyed his touch like she did Melisa’s. He was about to pull away when Melisa grabbed his arm.

“It’s okay,” she spoke to him softly, “Just breathe. Your hand is probably cold.”

“Oh,” was all he managed as Melisa guided his hand by his elbow, grazing his fingers against the baby’s belly.

For a few blissful moments, Glenn’s eyes were clouded with tears. He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his free arm, as a tiny hand grabbed his pinky. He held the sleeve up, to protect his eyes from anyone seeing him cry.

“Oh my God,” Melisa covered her mouth and nose, tears building in her eyes, “This is precious.” She turned to the nurse, “We need the others in here. This is…they need to see this.”

“N-no! No they don’t!” Glenn protested, rubbing his eyes. He did not want Spy to come in and chuckle at him crying, nor did he want the Soldier to see him in tears.

The nurse hesitated, looking between the two of them. She seemed unsure of whose words to take.

“Please? I want them to see this. I want them to see her,” Melisa pleaded.

A tapping on glass made Glenn flinch around to look. He saw the window, where the Spy and the Soldier were waving at them.

“We can see from here just fine, Melisa,” the Spy assured her.

“Hi Melisa!” the Soldier smiled broadly, waving aggressively.

He did not want a man like that around his baby. Big clumsy hands on a man who could barely keep his head straight belonged nowhere near the fragile newborn. Spy on the other hand was gentle and cautious. He would know exactly how to hold and touch her, without having to have had experience. Though he would wonder on whether the man had experience with children, but there was something about how aloof he was being today that made him off-putting.

“Please come in here!” Melisa called to them, waving a hand in their direction.

 

*********************************************************************

 

When Melisa turned and called them in, Hugh immediately waved off the invitation. He was not feeling like being around babies today. He did not feel like being around most people today. He was tired of much of this. He wanted desperately to take Andrew somewhere private again, this time to talk. He had to talk to him, as there was so much they had yet to discuss. He had to _explain_ his position somehow.

Andrew, on the other hand, became very enthusiastic. He had this big smile on his face and had suddenly become excited. He had been so somber before, which had put Hugh in this mood of wanting to be alone to talk with him.

Before he could say a thing, he found himself dragged into the room, by a large hand clutching his arm. The enthusiastic Soldier dragged him right in and he found himself next to Glenn. The Sniper was pulling his arm away from the box, trying to dry his face and was making his eyes redder.

Spy sighed and chuckled at the same time, “Don’t cry, Glenn. It’s unbecoming of you.”

“Why? He is having an emotional bonding moment with his daughter,” Melisa argued.

Andrew got close to the glass, peering closely at the newborn baby. He looked excited and awestruck by the little red creature. It was amusing to see how his face lit up.

He turned to Hugh with that big smile, “Look! Look at her! She’s so cute!”

“Here,” suddenly Glenn took his arm and started peeling off his glove.

“Hey! Stop that!” he tried to pull his arm away, but the Sniper clenched it under his arm against his side, so he could use two hands to pull the glove off.

“She looks like an Annabelle to me,” Andrew started making conversation with Melisa.

Melisa shook her head, “No. That doesn’t ring right.”

“What about Susanna?” Andrew asked, but Melisa was shaking her head, “Or Elizabeth?”

Spy winced and balled his hand into a fist, as it was guided through the hole. He remembered babies being gross slimy little things. Once upon a time, he tolerated them just fine, but he was above having his knuckles slobbered on like petting a dog.

“Come on!” the Sniper growled, “She’s not gonna bite ya!”

Spy sighed and rolled his eyes as he unclenched his fist, he did not look before the backs of his fingers touched the soft round belly. By Glenn’s direction, his hand glided up and down her belly. He tapped Glenn’s hand and took control of his own arm, moving his fingers to massage the baby’s left arm. The arm bent around him, and as he slowly made his way to her hand, she started to clasp his fingers.

“Oh my God that’s so cute!” Melisa sounded absolutely delighted and on the verge of tears.

Spy looked down at the baby and bit the inside of his lip. With so much medical wiring and care put into her survival, she looked like one of the many hopeless infants he had seen in his childhood. So very few of them ever survived though.

How could somebody choose to give up on them, Glenn had said to him. He turned to look over at the Sniper, who had a small happy grin on his face at seeing his friend touching his baby. He must have been swelling with pride, his worries with Mann Co and the child’s survival completely forgotten.

Hugh looked back at the child, blindly clutching his finger. So unaware was she that she could die. So unaware was she that her parents were delighted in her every little twitch. So unaware that she was given so much hope just by the love of her parents and the grace of some unknown being – perhaps it was that formula the Medics put into the medigun.

“Precious, isn’t she?” Sniper asked, clapping his opposite shoulder with a hand.

Hugh looked over at his friend, studying his face. He had such a happiness as Hugh had not seen since he revealed to Hugh that he was in love. It was that stupid, freshly fallen head-over-heels type of look.

It was a good look on him. His face was lit up in the happiest kind of way. It was a reflection of some swelling endearment from the inside.

He was jealous of that look once. He had wanted that look for himself, for Sniper to be that giddy because of him. Now, he just wanted to make that head-over-heels look last in his friend’s heart.

He rubbed the back of the baby’s hand with his thumb, before he carefully pried his finger away. She fussed at having the hand she was holding taken away. Melisa immediately replaced him though, offering her own fingers as the little babe’s play things.

Hugh turned and held out his hand, as a silent demand for his glove. It landed in his hand, but he hesitated to do anything with it. He looked up at his friend, who had shifted his attention to the baby holding his girlfriend’s finger.

Hugh tapped his shoulder, taking a step away from the box, hoping to draw him away. The Sniper was reluctant though, keeping his feet planted where he was. He did turn his attention to the Spy though, turning his shoulders and raising his head.

Hugh made do with what he was given, “I was flattered at your offer to name her after me.” He paused glancing at Melisa, but she did not seem to be listening. Maybe she was in on the attempt to find out his name, or maybe she just did not care about the offer made. “But, if you are serious about wanting _my_ help with a name, then I would suggest naming her Esperanza.”

“Esperanza?” Melisa turned at hearing that. So she _could_ hear him.

“Sounds a bit…I dunno…South American or something,” Glenn shrugged.

Hugh narrowed his eyes, “It is a French name. A child named Esperanza is in essence a girl with hope.”

“Hope…” Melisa repeated softly, before returning her attention to the baby.

Glenn hesitated, thinking over what he had just said. After a few moments of silence, he gave Hugh a toothy grin. It was an attempt to show gratitude, though it was a little too forced for Hugh’s taste.

“You don’t have to like the name,” he stated, curtly, “It is only my suggestion.”

“No no! I like it!” Glenn insisted.

“Esperanza,” Melisa spoke softly as she wriggled her baby’s hand.

“She’s a little bundle of joy!” Andrew commented.

Melisa’s grin got a little bigger, “Esperanza Joy Smuther.”

Glenn chuckled and turned to Melisa, “Well, if she’s gonna have my name, why don’t you share it too?”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her hand still in the baby’s vice grip.

“I mean,” Glenn stepped closer to her, taking her by the hips, “Marry me?”

Her face started turning a bit red, she was trying to suppress a smile, and tears were welling in her eyes. She was overjoyed by the proposal. She was going to jump up and down screaming, once she was at a safe distance from the baby. Hugh was happy for his friend, watching the woman try to contain her utter joy.

Melisa carefully pulled her hand from the child and turned to face Glenn. Her eyes were absolutely shining as she gazed up at him with large eyes. She was close to spilling over with tears.

“I meant to have a ring already, but what with all that’s happening…I haven’t had the time to go and buy one. And I might not afford it…or a wedding…for a while. But, I would like to share my name with you,” he took her hands, holding them at elbow height.

“Yes! Yes, of course, Glenn!” she said, bouncing a little with joy.

Hugh watched as the both smiled at each other like idiots. He gave his friend a gentle shove, with a roll of his eyes, “Kiss her, you idiot!”

“Oh,” was all that came out of Glenn’s mouth before Melisa jumped up to devour his mouth.

Hugh turned to Andrew to see that he was absolutely grinning, but he could not see his eyes from beneath the helmet. He wondered just how much the man had missed, or if he just understood what was going on based on what he was hearing. He reached over to gently pull at the Soldier’s jacket sleeve, directing him out of the baby room. They had overstayed, given that it was time for Glenn and Melisa to enjoy a bit of time alone as a family.

They were out in the hallways, making their way towards the food cafeteria, when Andrew turned a corner and ran face first into something. He tilted his helmet up to look, but Hugh was already there to check.

Towering above them both was the RED Heavy and his Medic beside him. The Heavy looked a bit miffed, but the Medic looked absolutely pissed. Hugh was not sure what to chock this up to before the Medic opened his mouth.

“You two!” the Medic pointed to them, “Where have you been? Where the fuck did you go with the ambulance? We have been stuck here for hours!”

Hugh let a small chortle escape his throat at hearing that. The man was so absolutely frustrated over not having his vehicle to get home, when he probably could have called a cab. Even being cooped up and isolated from the world, the German doctor would know about taxis.

“You could have called a cab,” Hugh shrugged.

“With what money? Pray tell?” the Medic scoffed.

“Borrow a phone,” Hugh rolled his eyes, “There are plenty in this hospital.”

“This is nice hospital,” Boris commented, “They do good things for people. We do not take phone from them!”

Hugh rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand, “I did not say steal. I said borrow. Andrew, did you hear me say steal?” He looked down at the stunned Soldier, who silently asked for a hand up by raising his arm.

“I heard you say borrow,” Andrew stated, as he got to his feet.

“Oh, I apologize!” the Medic mocked, “It seems that your reputation proceeds you on occasion. So we take precaution with your words.”

Hugh helped Andrew to his feet and growled at the Medic, “Your ambulance is back at the base where it safely belongs. I don’t know why you could not get a ride or catch a cab. Has lazy practice in English and old age caught up to you?”

“Spy don’t!” Andrew interrupted him, tugging at his sleeve.

The Medic gave Andrew a strange look. It was a calculating gaze that seemed to know something about him. Hugh did not like it, and became rather protective of his Soldier.

“Given every other mercenary left and refused to give us a ride…” the Medic let his voice drift off as he spoke, “Not to mention the aforementioned phone issue.”

Hugh rolled his eyes, “Seems to be a personal problem.”

The Medic reached out to grab and shake him angrily. He quickly deflected, falling into his old instincts. The Medic stepped in towards him, while he stepped back. The German bared his teeth angrily.

“You’re just going to leave us here?!” he roared with frustration.

“Of course not!” Andrew exclaimed, butting in. He stepped in between Hugh and the Medic, forcing his way in and pushing the Medic with his chest. He puffed himself up, as if all of his strength was in his sternum. “We’ll give you a ride!” Andrew gave them a large smile.

“Much gratitude, Soldier,” the Heavy said, with a surprisingly humble tone.

“Let’s go then,” the Medic said, impatiently.

“We’re not going yet,” Hugh stated firmly. He gave Andrew a warning look for offering them a ride.

“We need to get back to base! We’ve been here all night!” the Medic exclaimed angrily.

“Too bad,” Hugh shrugged, “We came in Gl-” He paused to clear his throat, stopping him from saying the Sniper’s name. Not that it mattered so much, but he did not like handing things over to the Medic. “We came in the Sniper’s camper, so we will be going when _he_ is ready,” he stated.

The Medic sighed in frustration, “You couldn’t have brought the ambulance back?”

“We had more important things on our minds,” Hugh stated curtly.

“You can worry about having a fuck with the Soldier another day,” the Medic retorted, with irritation.

“Maxwell!” the Heavy exclaimed, placing a hand on the German’s shoulder.

Hugh’s face grew red with anger. He suppressed it and tried his best to hide it. But he did wish he had a knife at his disposal to teach the Medic a lesson. That was when he remembered slipping a kunai up his sleeve before leaving his room. He almost smirked at the thoughts in his mind.

“You can wait! There is a baby whose parents are dealing with a life and death decision!” Andrew cut in, sounding like a drill sergeant who was scorning his regiment, “So, if you have any more gripes, you can bring them to my fists!”

Hugh barely suppressed the chortle that escaped him. He forced all of the rest of the laughter down though, “Alright Andrew. That’s enough.”

“Fine,” Maxwell sniffed and folded his arms over his chest, “We’ll wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the important part of this story has come to fruition! Now it is time to payout a few final things before this ends.  
> Probably about 10 more chapters left in this before I am done.  
> Hugh grew up around infants, can't you tell?  
> I did leave some hints about where his background in Allies in Love, and I 'might' reveal his background. Either in this one or the next one.
> 
> Did you think the previous story was cute? Did you find the previous chapter adorable? How about this one? I gushed over this entire chapter.  
> I am now gushing over the sequel I have implanted the idea of in my mind. I am plotting it out now, but I won't start writing until I am done with this one.  
> More cuteness to come :3
> 
> I did a lot of background checking on this name. It got me confused, because I thought maybe the resource was confused...cause it's also Spanish. But I guess it is also French.


	30. Merasmus is Coming for Eggplants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mercenaries are preparing for Merasmus' arrival.  
> Glenn and Melisa are attacked by an assassin again.

October 2005

“Well, you going to be getting ready for Merasmus’ arrival?” the Demoman chuckled with glee.

Andrew glanced over at Forbes and frowned. He had been spending more time memorizing names than he had on thinking about Merasmus. The wizard seemed like a distant memory, it had been so long.

“Seems like we haven’t had a good time fighting him in a long time,” Drake noted, hefting a sack of squashes over his shoulder.

This was the preparation. Not everybody knew the secrets, but knowing made it a little fun. Even if he still did not understand the point of hiding the reality of this job from the others, he could understand the fun in a show full of crazy mercenaries. Even in times like this, where it was a simple Halloween special coming up.

Forbes would show him later. They had decided upon a time when several of them would go off base to take a look at some of the footage that was rendered as an episode. That much did not make much sense to him, though it did not help that Forbes was not very good at explaining things that did not have to do with Scotland explosives, or chemicals. The man hardly seemed to understand the basic concept of the show himself.

“I don’t get the point of pumpkins anymore…” Drake paused, looking in the sack at what he was carrying, “Or whatever the rest of these are…but it’s nice to celebrate a good old Halloween. Right guys?” Drake turned his smile to Andrew, which warmed his heart.

Andrew nodded in response, “It’s a good time! One of my favorite holidays!”

“I thought your favorite holiday was the fourth of July,” Scout noted.

“I thought it was Christmas,” the Demoman added, with a shrug.

“I love them all!” Andrew announced, with a big smile on his face.

“Glad you are enjoying yourselves,” Réne stepped into the picture with a cigarette between two fingers. He had an aloof look about him and he did not look prepared to step in and help with decorating for the holidays.

“This is going to be a great time!” Andrew smiled. Réne had yet to experience an October in the mountains, and he was sure to be pleased.

“Indeed,” Réne seemed indifferent to the topic, flicking a bit of ash off the end of his cigarette before taking a deep breath of it. He let out a smoky sigh, his eyes taking in each man in turn. “I came to let you know about the…well, Dooley,” he finally said, his eyes mostly on Andrew.

“Dooley?” he had to remind himself that that was the RED Engineer’s name, “What about him?” His feeling of kinship made him forget the betrayal and hurt he felt from the Engineer’s actions.

“It seems that he has revealed all that he knows about what is going on,” he explained, “But, he has not called off the assassin.”

Everybody went silent. A few things were dropped to the floor as the mercenaries heard of the killer on the loose. Andrew thought that maybe he should be breaking the silence, but he could not bring himself to say anything. He felt stunned himself, having entirely forgotten there was a sniper out to kill Melisa and her baby.

“What are we doing here then?!” the Scout exclaimed with disbelief, “We should be over there!”

“There is nothing we can do as of now,” Réne shook his head at the boy.

“Nothing we can do?! We could guard her!” Drake exclaimed.

“The boy has a point. Why don’t you be a little more productive?” the RED Italian Spy appeared out of thin air.

Andrew flinched, but then gave the Spy a nervous smile and a wave. He grinned around a cigarette as he gave Andrew a small gesture of greeting in return. He quickly turned back to Réne though.

“Jacques and Sebastien are both doing recon on the situation,” Réne went on, as if uninterrupted. He was practically ignoring Maurice’s presence entirely. “Guarding the targets in a hospital would turn heads. You would only draw more attention to her. Not to mention the public repercussions. People _will_ begin to notice. And then they _will_ think that we planned or at least knew about an attack on a hospital without alerting authorities.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?” Forbes asked, sounding a little confused.

“Yes, that does seem like what you are doing,” Maurice nodded in agreement, “Unless you are working with the police in secret.”

“No police,” Réne shot his RED counterpart a glare.

Andrew frowned. The two used to be so close. He could still look back and remember the first time he caught them together. Maurice had Réne’s back pushed up against a wall, and they were as close as lovers could get while on the battlefield. Now they were bantering like cats that were separated by water, frustrated with each other, but never really battling it out with weapons, just their wits and their words.

They seemed like they needed it now more than ever. Maybe it would make Réne stop being angry. Maybe Maurice would stop being such a brat. And maybe they would make up and enjoy each other’s company again.

He shook himself when he realized that he had zoned out of the conversation. He did not even know what they were talking about anymore. Was it about the Spies’ relationship? No that could not be it. It must have been something else.

“If she were staying here it would be a different matter entirely,” Réne admitted, with a shrug, “There is nothing we can do about it, if she refuses to leave the hospital. And we cannot all be there to guard her. We would draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“Aye, we got it,” Forbes intervened.

“Good, I don’t want to have to repeat myself,” Réne replied, curtly.

Maurice muttered something in Italian before putting out his light, “I will leave you to it then.”

“And where are you running off to?” Forbes asked, as if surprised that the RED would sneak in and then just leave.

“RED base is doing their own decorations,” Maurice sighed, “It’s tiring, but everybody’s supposedly pitching in.”

“Aren’t they?” Drake asked, pausing with an eggplant in hand. He was looking at it crossly, like he could not decide what to do with it.

“Not really,” Maurice frowned, “Everybody’s a little…off lately…”

“Off?” Forbes chuckled awkwardly, “Tell them to get their sissy little asses into gear! Cause we’re not taking it easy on them on the battlefield tomorrow!”

Maurice’s frown grew, “I…many of us were friends with Price, you know.”

There was a long silence. It was not the BLUs being silent, but the RED Spy. He had this sorrowful look on his face, like he regretted his entire life.

“Y-you didn’t mean it to happen though, Maurice,” Forbes offered, “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Andrew tried his best to follow the conversation, but only felt lost. He frowned, as he pondered what Maurice was feeling bad about. As a friend, he wanted to reach out and comfort him. Maybe it had to do with his relationship with Réne, and that was why Réne was being so stubbornly quiet about it all.

Maurice gave a quick sigh, “I’m going to go. G’luck with all of your…decorating. I’m going to slink back to RED and see what they are doing there.”

“You do that,” Forbes said, though he was not smiling.

Both Spies vanished, leaving the others to ponder. Andrew glanced at Forbes, who gave him a shrug. Drake finally decided to throw the eggplant at the wall, causing the vegetable to squish.

“The hell did you do that for?” Forbes exclaimed.

Drake knelt by the eggplant to inspect it, “What the hell is this thing?”

Andrew furrowed his brow, “That is an eggplant son. Have you never eaten eggplant before?”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Dooley raised his head as he woke. It was the same nightmare. The burnt looking basement that served as a torture chamber kept him locked in darkness. Somewhere in a corner, he could hear the soft chuffing of a rat or a mouse, which had made its home in the walls of the base.

The footsteps that had woken him continued down the stairs, until they reached the recorder that he could not see. He let his head fall, closing his eyes like he was still asleep. He listened to the movement of hands moving the record player, setting it to spin around and around.

The soft tones of Frank Sinatra came on, singing about having a woman under his skin. His eyes tightened shut as he tried not to think. The man coming towards him was going to have questions and things he would do to get those questions. If he thought about that, then he would only feel more fear and more pain, he had to think about anything but the man who was going to be doing this.

As Sinatra sang about sacrifice, Dooley’s mind went to the Soldier. Solly’s big goofy smile came into the view of his mind’s eye. The thought brought a smile to his face and a tear to his eye. That was all he needed to get through this, was a smile from Andrew. He would be fine, by the strength of the man he loved, he would get through this unscathed.

It was not like he had any more information to give them. They had gotten so much out of him, doubting him at every turn, until he could not avoid them anymore. Still, they doubted him and his responses that he knew nothing more.

The record continued playing through the song, until Sinatra was singing about flying away. Oh how he wished he could fly away. He would give Andrew his wings, to fly away from this place and its savage treatment of them as animals.

He knew he could not have or hold Andrew, but that did not stop him from loving. It did not stop him from wanting to make the man happy. It did not stop him from trying to make that smile grow across his face.

The sad lilting of a song that lamented memories of a pretty lady caused the tears to stream a bit more. He choked back sobs as he thought of the failures. The let downs and the betrayals all hit so hard when he thought back to them. Andrew had been out of his mind, so he could not be frustrated with him too much at having attacked the Engineer. Still, there was so much pain to know that he had failed to get Andrew to see, and to help him escape this life. And in the end, that love would always be unrequited.

As Sinatra finished singing “Just the Way You Are,” the figure came around to where he could see him. He did not open his eyes though, he just listened for any signs of movement. He would still be wary of the man coming too close to him.

“You are done?” the BLU Spy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He was taken off guard by the question a little bit, but he did not look at him. “You have nothing more for us, do you?” the BLU pressed.

He slowly shook his head. He wanted this to end already. The questioning had only just begun, but every movement felt like it would become the last thing he would do. He felt like he was damning himself, dooming himself, whether he spoke or not.

“Except that…” the BLU sounded contemplative as he spoke, “You still have yet to reveal to us the identity or location of the sniper.”

“I told you all that I know!” the Engineer pleaded with him.

“You have not,” the BLU argued, with an angry undertone.

The record ended on its own. All that was left was the empty noise it made, as it continued to spin beneath the needle. Meanwhile, a leather gloved hand took him by the jaw, forcing his face up.

His eyes opened by surprise, and he gasped. He gazed up at the darkly shadowed face above him. A fedora sat eschew on the man’s head. A glint of something dangerous glowed in his hazel eyes. His lips remained a taut line, refusing to show expression to the Engineer.

Meeting a man like him in such a dark setting would be so thrilling, if not for the torture. Being here was torment, just out of fear of what they _might_ do. But he had to admit to himself that the man was indeed handsome, and had that mystery appeal. He would never lower himself to trusting a Spy though, not after all that he had been through.

“Until I get enough to end that assassin’s hunt, I’m not done here,” the Spy’s grip tightened on his jaw, forcing him into an awkward position, with his face up, “The sooner you talk, the sooner this ends.”

Dooley closed his eyes and began to cry again. He let the tears move freely down his face. He had nothing in him to stop these tears from building up and then falling down his cheeks. He did, however, have a picture of Andrew in his mind, to remind him that he had strength.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Snuggled up in the camper, Glenn breathed in the smell of cherry scented shampoo, with a feeling like relief. Sprawled over him, and wrapped up in his arms, the softest person he had ever known was cuddled up against him. With her face pressed up into his shirt, he could not tell just whether she was still sleeping or if she had woken.

He was quiet as he laid there. He was relieved beyond belief that she was okay. She was alright after all of that. There had been a chance of death during childbirth, there was always that chance.

Now he had to wonder whether their baby would survive. They would pay through the nose to keep her on stability machines, but there was no telling if she might die anyways. The doctors had warned them about that. Still, Melisa was determined to extend Esperanza’s life. So, Glenn also felt the need to see this child grow up into an adult.

If the child became an adult though, what would happen to him? If he was still working as a mercenary, would he tell her? Would he have to explain why he never grew old? Would Melisa age and die, while he was still around? If he never left, he could never have this life quite right. Melisa would keep growing older, as she always did, but he would stay the same.

As little as he liked the idea of growing more gray hair – the Medics working for Mann Co Productions were the only old men he had ever met who managed to pull of gray hair – he disliked the idea of Melisa growing old without him even more. He did not want to lose her to her age, while staying young and spry himself. In reality, his time had come and gone to die naturally, but respawn had kept him alive all of these years.

And then what about the child? He could not imagine explaining why he was just as young as he was at her wedding as he was at her fifth birthday. He could not imagine how it was going to be when his daughter in turn grew old, and watched him remain able to run and bounce around – maybe not as spry as Scout, but still at a decent age by his standards – while she lost use of her hips.

His mind wandered back to the thought of gray hair. That was when the memory of the Spy came back to his mind. He flinched, his eyes widening a little. He was so caught up in his time spent with Melisa and Esperanza, parking the camper only a few blocks from the hospital, that he had forgotten about seeing the Spy. It was like a distant dream though, a mere glimpse that had not burned into his memory very well.

His hair had been black, hadn’t it? No, it was a very dark brown. That or it was black with brown streaks. Perhaps he was remembering wrong, but he thought he remembered gray streaks, like wings by his ears.

Suddenly, Melisa stirred, pulling him out of his thoughts. He gently rubbed her back, hoping to keep her relaxed and happy. He smiled when her face slowly moved up to look at him. She smiled back, closing her eyes sleepily.

“I should go check on Esperanza,” she whispered.

“Five more minutes, sweet,” he said, his hand now rubbing her arm.

“You can stay in bed,” she chuckled at him.

“I don’t wanna, when I don’t have a little Melisa right here,” he chuckled.

She giggled and gave him a playful smack. She slowly slipped from the bed, sliding down to the living quarters. He yawned and followed her, not caring to stay if he did not have her there to warm the blankets. He could do with a minute or so of seeing Esperanza anyways.

After they struggled in the small space to get dressed, they clambered out into the cold chill of the early morning. He shifted his coat, pulling it tight around his neck. He glanced up at the rain clouds overhead, hoping it did not start raining anytime soon.

“I thi-” Melisa was cut off by the familiar blast of a sniper shot.

She gasped and leaped backwards, as the thing hit the ground in front of her. She turned and rushed back towards the camper, seeking safety. Glenn followed, grabbing her by the wrist to keep her close. They carefully crawled into the camper to gather some weapons hidden inside.

Before they exited the camper, Glenn took her hand and pulled her close. He pecked her cheek and wrapped her in a small hug, “I want you to head to the hospital. Get inside, go to our little girl and stay there.”

She gasped, “Glenn no!”

“I know you wanna fight with me, but if I am put down, somebody’s gonna have to protect our little one,” he told her, “Mel, I won’t let ‘im near the hospital…but if I can’t stop him…you’re going to have to do it.”

He felt her nod and kiss his neck, just beneath his earlobe. She broke away from his embrace, darting towards a stack of trash cans as her first cover. Several bullets shot at her, startling her out of her skin. He could see it, even if she was trying so hard to suppress it. She was so terrified. He had to make sure that she got the hospital and that the sniper was stopped.

He took a deep breath as he stepped out and moved around to the front. He stayed low and in cover, ready to find his mark. The target had already given away his position though, so it was too easy for Glenn to find where the man was hiding. He let of a shot but missed. He blamed the lighting.

In any case, the sniper had flinched back, coming away from his scope and moving his gun out of position. Glenn motioned to Melisa to start running, “Go go! Go now!”

She obeyed, putting all of her effort into sprinting. He listened to her heavy panting, while he searched for the sniper. He listened intently until the sound disappeared down the street.

When he could not find the sniper, he decided to follow her. It was likely the sniper wanted to try and take him out when he reached the hospital. If he got there, in a place he could not see, before the sniper could set up a position, then he might survive this.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The pot slipped from Andrew’s hand. He looked at each of the other men in the room, who were staring at him like he was being bizarre. He could not believe they were there cooking dinner when they could be at the hospital making sure that Melisa and her baby were okay. How had that slipped his mind?

“You okay, Solly?” Drake asked.

He nodded slowly, “Why aren’t we at the hospital guarding Melisa and the baby?”

Drake and Forbes shared an incredulous look. They seemed confused by his statement. When they turned back to him, they gave him curious looks.

“We should be at the hospital with Melisa and Glenn!” Andrew announced proudly.

“We cannot do anything for them, mate,” Forbes replied.

“Yea, we kinda agreed that us going there is a bad thing,” Drake agreed.

Andrew frowned, “We should at least check on them. Shouldn’t we?”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Forbes shook his head. He reached out to put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “I’m sure they are fine,” he assured the Soldier.

“Yea, Sniper can take care of himself,” Drake assured him.

Andrew shook his head in disagreement, “I think we should at least pay them a visit. I mean…even just to show that we care?”

Forbes glanced over his shoulder at Drake, who merely shrugged. The youth had a look that said that he agreed with Andrew.

Forbes dropped his head with a sigh, “Look, Solly. We can’t. We need to stay put for right now. We’re needed right here.”

“Why? We’re not going to be doing anything,” Andrew argued.

“Not true,” Drake pointed out, putting both hands together with the index fingers pointed outward, “Merasmus is going to be here soon.”

“Is that all?” Andrew gave the youth a roll of the eye, “I could kick his magician ass with one hand tied behind my back!”

Forbes smacked his lips and shook his head. He looked between Andrew and Drake. His head jerked when he saw something, but Andrew was already prepared to say something, so he did not look.

“I want to do something important!” he announced, “I don’t want to sit here doing nothing!”

A voice cleared the throat. Andrew’s head turned to see Hugh standing in the doorway, holding a haughty and aloof look about him. He strode into the kitchen, not unlike a bold cat would approach dogs.

“What is going on here?” Hugh asked.

“Hey, Spy,” Drake greeted, “We’re talking about…I guess Solly wants to protect Sniper’s girl and I guess the baby too.”

“I want to do something important!” Andrew announced, “Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to pay them a visit.”

“That is very thoughtful of you,” Hugh said, with a soft tone of fondness.

Drake gave Andrew and Hugh each a confused look. The boy shook his head, likely shaking off some weird feeling. He reached over to pat the Demoman on the shoulder.

“What do you think, Forbes? A little visit?” the Scout asked, “It couldn’t hurt to pay a little visit, could it?”

“Not one like the time we all went,” Forbes said, a touch scornfully.

Andrew was about to speak up, to tell Forbes to not be so harsh towards the youth. There was no reason to be so rude to the kid when he was just trying to be thoughtful of others. But, Hugh spoke before him.

“May I speak with you a minute, Demoman?” Hugh asked, motioning for the Demoman to follow him to the door.

“Uh…sure,” the Demoman hesitated before he followed.

Drake shared a curious look with Andrew who shrugged. He had thought that perhaps Hugh would ask _him_ for a moment to talk, but he was probably busy. The thought did not stop a small spark of jealousy in his chest. It was hard to get even a little time to spend with Hugh these days, as he was so busy and they were still hiding their relationship from everybody.

If only he could decide what they were anymore. He still wanted to question things, especially things to do with work. Why were they still there anyways? Why didn’t they just pick up their happy asses and get the hell out of there? There was no point to it, unless there was something that the Spy was not yet sharing with him. He could not tell though.

He was not sure he could ask those questions though. The private time he did get with Hugh was not time he wanted to waste on questions like that. He wanted to spend time in silence, time stroking his hair, and time talking about pleasantries. That was time he wanted to spend enjoying his Spy, not worrying about life’s nonsense.

And if he had extra time to spend on questions, he was not sure how to approach those questions. He was conflicted on what it all meant. He was not even sure he understood what it really was, and what it meant for them as mercenaries.

In the end, he just wanted to spend quality time with Hugh. There was no point to questions that would just worry them both. As if Hugh did not have enough to worry about during his investigating. He probably had more to worry about than anybody, working on investigation and worrying about his best friend’s wellbeing.

“You gonna help me with the eggplant, Solly?” Drake interrupted his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That previous chapter like killed my need for writing for a little while. It was like a high on cuteness.


	31. Traitor Among Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a traitor in BLU.

“What did you want to talk about?” Forbes asked, as they entered the smoking room.

Hugh paused at the record player. He turned on Sinatra to fill the room with sound. Normally he would not, but for some reason Sinatra had a voice that could clear his mind. It would hopefully put the Demoman at ease as well.

“I just came from the RED base, where they have been questioning the RED Engineer,” he explained.

“Oh! Did you get a good whack at him, lad? Tell me you did his lip in for me!” Forbes sounded too excited at the topic of torture.

Hugh decided to let the torture slip his mind for the moment, “The assassins hired do not work for Mann Co, but they are persistent. They will send a new man in every time one dies. And they will not stop until Melisa and her child are dead. If we intend to assist the Sniper, I suggest we start encroaching on this business’ territory. They won’t realize that we are a force to reckon with until they see we will cause them real trouble.”

Forbes patted him on the back, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Hugh kept his back straight and a haughty expression on his face, “Why not?”

“Because we’re not exactly in the mercenary business anymore,” the Demoman shook his head, “Look. You have to look at this from a new perspective. Yes we kill each other and die, but outside of our bubble, where the rest of the world can see us, we can’t be seen as mercenaries. Not even by our enemies.”

“That is crassly unreasonable,” Hugh argued.

“I think not,” the Demoman stated, “We get paid, don’t we? Only, we don’t get paid to kill no more.”

“Yes, yes, but you forget that our Sniper is being targeted by an assassin,” Hugh explained.

“You said before that it was not Sniper but his girlfriend,” Forbes replied, with a small frown.

“Are you not concerned that his fiancé is in danger?” Hugh asked, brushing away the hand that began resting on his shoulder.

Forbes’ lips tightened, “Fiancé? They are getting married now?”

“But of course,” Hugh said dismissively, “They were engaged shortly after the baby’s birth. As he has been at the hospital with her, I doubt you’ve chanced to go and see him, where he can properly tell you himself.”

The Demoman sniffed with irritation, shooting Hugh a frustrated glare. He was not known for his patience anyways. Hugh figured he had probably pressed him far, though he could not help that the Scot was stubborn.

“How do you even know that? N-no. Never mind. I don’t want to know,” Forbes raised his hands and shook them defensively, “All I wanna know, is what boneheaded idea you are getting.”

“I would not call it _boneheaded_ considering it requires tactical skill to prepare and pull off,” Hugh said, with a dignified tone. He was a little offended though.

“Okay…” Forbes dropped his hands, “Look…the boneheaded but _tactical_ plan…” He gave Hugh a big stupid grin, his eye agleam with mischief. “I want in on it!”

Hugh flinched with surprise. This was a complete turnaround from his previous opinion of the Spy’s idea. Hugh immediately became wary, as this might be a trap to get him to share details that could then be thwarted. Coworkers or not, he did not trust any mercenary like Joshua Forbes as far as he could throw him.

“I’m tired of being the responsible one…watching out for your asses all the time! Let’s stir up some shit!” Forbes smiled broadly.

Hugh paused, contemplating the addition of other mercenaries into his plans. Forbes was a handler, he was working more closely with Mann Co from the get go. Just like the Engineer, his alliance to the company probably held his tongue from revealing some things, more so than any other mercenary would be willing. It was just as likely that he would decide to halt their plans or tell the company about what they were doing. A wild goose chase was in order, and he knew just how to throw Forbes off.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew was making his way down the hall, following the Scout. They had been called to attend a meeting, where they were supposed to discuss things regarding the Sniper and his girlfriend. He hoped that somebody would let him go back to the hospital, even if just to say hello to Melisa and get another look at her baby.

An unfamiliar phone rang, the noise reverberating off the walls. The two of them shared a look, before they started looking for the source of the ringing. They came to find that it was in the monitor room, and Jackson – the other Sniper – had answered it.

“Ah, no I’m not sure where he is,” Jackson was saying.

“Wonder who that is,” Drake spoke so softly that Andrew barely heard him. They were peering together around the door, but they were not sure why they were being secretive.

“I ain’t draggin’ out no spook for you, wanker,” Jackson tossed his hand for emphasis, as if the speaker on the other end could see him, “No! You’re all the way there, mate. Stop worrying about what the Spies are doing. Just get to work!”

There was a long pause that dragged out. He started saying no every once in a while, but Andrew could not tell what he was saying no to. Every once in a while there would be a no, and in longer stretches there would be a grunted response instead.

“Fine! If you’re so damn paranoid I’ll get him. But it’s not as if it’ll do any good without a bullet in his head!” the Sniper suddenly exclaimed with frustration.

The Scout gasped, taken aback by the Sniper’s wording. Without thinking, Andrew grabbed the youth by the shoulder and mouth to keep him quiet and pull him out of the way. He was sure that the keen Sniper heard the response to his words and would be cautiously making his way towards the door. He kept his hand steadily over Drake’s mouth, as he eased with careful steps towards the next hallway, where he hid around a corner.

He took his hand off of the Scout’s shoulder and put a finger to his lips to shush him. Drake moved his hand away from his mouth manually. There was a great amount of panic in his eyes.

He spoke with careful and soft words, “We gotta tell the guys!”

Andrew hesitated, hearing the Sniper’s boots step into the hallway. He was coming their way, looking for a snitch. If he saw two of them, he might figure out that they heard him. If he saw a dimwitted Soldier all alone, he was more likely to dismiss him for his probable ignorance.

He turned to Drake and pointed down the hallway, “Don’t talk to anybody. Go straight to Jacques. Not Réne, Jacques.”

“What?” Drake almost raised his voice too high for comfort, “How am I supposed to know which one is which? And why the he-”

Andrew put a hand over the Scout’s mouth, “Just go! Tell none of this to anyone else!”

Drake nodded, before turning and running off. If nothing else, the boy’s quick feet would carry him too fast for the Sniper to catch up. He did not realize how odd it was that he was standing there, watching where the Scout had gone, when the Sniper arrived around the corner.

“Hey uh…whacha lookin’ at there, Solly?” the Australian interrupted his thoughts.

Andrew turned to look at him, then gave him an odd smile. He felt so odd. He felt almost scared. He tried to tell himself that he was not scared, that he was a damn Soldier. But, in reality, he was playing Spy right now, and that was not something he was good at. That was something he was sure he would fuck up. He might have fucked up already.

He opened his mouth and lost control. When he closed his mouth he questioned himself. He tried to think on what he had just said, trying to remember what it was. He wished Hugh was around, so he could ask him what it was he had just spouted. He felt like such a lost idiot.

“Uh…ya know we’re in a ceasefire, don’t you?” Jackson gave him a concerned frown.

“Oh…right…” Andrew felt hot flush, glad for the helmet mostly covering his upper face.

Jackson nodded, “Why don’t you head off to where there isn’t much trouble for you to get into.”

Andrew gave him a big smile and a salute. He felt weird as he stomped off. Why did he salute the man? That felt weird. Everything felt weird. He realized that it was fine though, since the pounding in his chest was no longer necessary and he had escaped a dangerous situation. He would have to impede any future plans the Sniper had though, and that meant following the Sniper instead of walking away.

When he was a good distance away, he turned a corner and stopped. He pressed his back to the wall and listened carefully. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, trying to appear natural as the Sniper passed him. Jackson paid him no mind though, as he made his way through the halls towards the main entrance.

Soldier waited until the footsteps were faint, before he followed. He stepped carefully, not wanting the Sniper to catch on that he was following. He wanted to keep the Sniper within hearing distance, without losing some stealth. Of course, he was not sure if perhaps he was goofing this all up.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh was definitely surprised when the Scout came barreling into his smoking room. Forbes was still there, having a cigar and sharing some of his whiskey. Forbes had convinced him to try something, while they were not having some social gathering, as the man seemed convinced it was the social structure that negated the Spy’s drinking.

He took a careful sip as he approached the panting Scout, “Scout, what the fuck?”

The Scout turned to him, his face red and his breaths coming in hoarsely. He paused, holding up a finger to gain time for breath. He bent over to place his hands on his knees for a while. When he rose to full height, he put his hands on his hips as he spoke.

“You’re not going to believe what we- Solly and I just heard!” Scout exclaimed.

“This should be good for a laugh!” Forbes chuckled, before drowning his words with a glass of whiskey.

“The new Sniper from Mexico – he’s planning something with somebody,” Scout explained, still trying to catch his breath all the while.

“Alright boyo, so the man’s got plans!” Forbes chuckled and turned to Hugh, “You been making him your lackey or something?”

“No,” Hugh shot the Scot a glare.

“Well, it ain’t a crime to be planning something!” Forbes snickered.

“Well, it ain’t good!” Scout exclaimed, “He was talkin- he was talking about spooks and putting a bullet in somebody’s head!” The Scout tried desperately to get air into his lungs, but he was also trying to get this all out with the little breath he had. “Me and Soldier, we were just passing by, but the Sniper answered the phone and got to talking to somebody. Don’t know who it was, but it sounded like he was supposed to shoot a Spy. Or maybe all the Spies. Or something!”

“Take a moment and breathe, laddie,” Forbes frowned, pouring a new glass of whiskey and offering it to the Scout.

Scout took a deep drink, too much in one swig, and immediately spat the liquid out. He looked at the glass and realized that he had been handed alcohol. He shook his head.

“I’m serious! This is serious!” Scout exclaimed.

“While it is a bit concerning that he’s planning something like this during a ceasefire…” Forbes shot Hugh a look of uncertainty, “Sniping’s his job. Besides, it is likely that he took a side job.”

“Hmm…” Hugh hesitated.

Not many of the mercenaries knew about side jobs. Judging by his facial expression, the Scout did not know either. He doubted the new Sniper, who had yet to prove himself to any American clientele, had set himself up with side jobs.

“Why’d ya come here anyways?” Forbes asked, “We should go tell the others.”

“No!” Scout exclaimed, “Solly said to tell nobody! He said to go straight to Jacques and nobody else-” The Scout suddenly saw his error, giving the Demoman a wary look of indecision.

“The hell would he say that for?” Forbes scoffed, “And stop lookin’ at me like that! Ya little creep. He wouldn’t be saying something like that. He’s Soldier!”

“I dunno, Demo,” Scout growled, “He said it to me!”

“I don’t like your tone, boyo!” the Demo growled with frustration.

“Well, I don’t like yours! I’ll bet you’re a Spy!” Scout pointed in Forbes’ face.

Forbes pointed back, “You wanna tussle lad? Let’s tussle! I am fuckin’ ready to throw down!”

Hugh decided to finally stop this nonsense and stepped in, “Gentlemen!”

They both looked at him, then back at each other, then back to him. They each gave him an awkward look, given they were fighting in his space.

“No offense, Spy,” Scout offered an apologetic smile.

“None taken,” Hugh gesture in dismissal, “What did the Soldier say?”

“Oh! He said to come straight to you and tell you what we heard!” Scout explained.

“I see,” Hugh nodded. He restrained a smile, feeling proud of the Soldier’s quick thinking.

“What? Why not? Why wouldn’t the Soldier trust the rest of us? Or trust you for that matter?” Forbes scoffed with disbelief.

Hugh rolled his eyes, “If there is a threat within our team…then it is likely others are in on it too.”

He eyed Forbes thoughtfully. He had yet to really ponder the possibility that Forbes would be in on treason of any sort. He had investigated most of their teammates already and nothing had come up. Perhaps he should have dug deeper on that other BLU Sniper though.

“Nae! Don’t look at me like that, Spy!” Forbes growled.

“Look, Spy, what’s going on?” Scout asked, with a touch of desperation in his voice.

“I’m not sure yet,” his eyes flickered between the two other men in the room. One was being aggressive towards him and the other was pleading for some form of assistance. “But I intend to find out.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew followed the Sniper carefully. His heart was pounding and his mind was racing. There was a small shred of guilt at being so paranoid about the Sniper. He was a teammate after all, and at some point they had been friends to some extent. However, he had to find out what was going on.

He crouched between two trucks when the Sniper headed into a supply shed. He remained hidden there between the wheels for quite a long while. He almost started to think that he was being overly paranoid, when the Sniper finally came out. He was sucking on his teeth and holding a bunch of chains in his hands. He hefted them in his hands, as if deciding what he would do with them.

Andrew waited with bated breath, unable to decide what to do. If he ran out in the open, he would not outrun the Sniper, and he could not outwit him either. If he stayed put and let him walk back into the base, he risked the others’ safety.

He shook those thoughts from his mind. Hugh is a capable fighter, he reminded himself. He smirked as he thought about all of his coworkers. They were fast, nimble and strong fighters. The Sniper would have another thing coming, if he thought he could ambush any of them.

He would have to get them alone when they were not looking or paying attention. He would have to get them in a dark corner, or somewhere easy to hide. He would have to creep up on them, too quiet for them to hear. And if he did, he would have to do it in a way that prevented them from making sounds, because that would alert the others to trouble. As little as they liked each other, Andrew doubted that they would ignore a fellow mercenary’s cry if it could mean danger for themselves as well.

He was up against two big Heavys, a fast and nimble Scout, two gung-ho Demos, two brilliant builders of killing machines, two crazy fire starters, two possibly crazy battle Medics, two sneaky spies, and two Soldiers. Between himself and Henry, the other Soldier on BLU, he was sure the Sniper would have a difficult time taking somebody by surprise. He smirked at the thought of teaming up with the other Soldier, maybe he and Henry would be a loud mouthed American team to reckon with. It sounded like fun anyways, and if the Scout wanted to join, he figured the boy would do well with a bit of team association. Maybe if the Engineers backed them up with some sentry power, they would be absolutely unstoppable against the little Sniper.

A pain hit him from the back of the head. He cried out in pain but could not say anything. He felt the dirt, tasted asphalt and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew stop thinking and pay attention to what's happening behi- aaaaand there he goes.


	32. The Jostle and Juggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell is tasked with a surgery he is not willing to do, even if it is on his enemy.  
> Hugh has a run in with Snipers.  
> Dooley gets pissed.

Maxwell looked up from his paperwork to see two Snipers enter. His own team’s resident Sniper had this ungracious snarl forever painted across it. He had such malicious intent in his eyes that it was a bit intimidating, though Max hoped his body language betrayed nothing. But BLU’s other Sniper was a question Max could not help but ask.

He opened his mouth, but contended not to ask, when he saw the BLU Sniper carrying his team Soldier. So, something was going on at BLU, he thought. Something must have gone horribly wrong. While he would not wish something horrible on Frederick Krüger, he did enjoy the thought of one upping him from time to time.

“Don’t ask and I won’t tell,” Crawley growled, as his counterpart flopped the Soldier onto a table.

“Well, I do need to ask what it is I am supposed to be doing with a BLU Soldier in my infirmary,” Max replied, simply.

Crawley growled with disdain, but it was his counterpart who spoke up, “He has a point. He cannot do anything unless he knows what he’s doing, mate.”

Crawley growled again and pulled the brim of his hat down lower, “We received these orders from the Administrator.” He pulled out a file, though Max was not sure where he had been keeping it. He was not sure he wanted to know the answer either. “Question is: can you do it?”

Maxwell hesitated, tentatively taking the file into his hands. He carefully brisked through the pages, skimming over the information with the intention of taking in details later. But, the more he read, the deeper in detail he scanned. The more he learned about the procedure, the more mortified he was.

“Well?” Crawley was hanging over the desk, his grubby hands planted on some papers strewn about the surface.

Maxwell looked up at him over the paper, his mouth hanging to show his horror. He was in such disbelief and shock that he did not know what to do or say. Going through something like this would change everything about the Soldier’s life.

“Listen,” Crawley growled, “If you won’t do it, I’ll get crazy nuts over in the corner to do it.” He jerked his head, motioning to Reiner Hummel in the corner, who was partially sedated, considering his irrational and erratic behavior was often a problem in the infirmary. “I know he would love to do this,” Crawley growled.

Maxwell laughed, “Doubtful he could, with so much sedative!”

“You what? Never mind. Just get it done!” Crawley stormed off in a huff. The BLU Sniper hesitated, looking disgruntled at the Soldier and then at the Medic, before leaving.

Maxwell sighed as he rose from the desk and strolled towards the table. The Soldier was completely unconscious, barely breathing loud enough for him to hear. He looked over the sleeping body, then at the papers in his hand.

“I can’t,” he breathed, dropping the file to the floor. Why would they even want him to do this?

He looked over the Soldier again, thinking back. Back at the hospital, the Soldier had been all over the Spy. He should want to do this, he should want to make the Spy miserable. However, knowing it was the BLU Spy’s lover only made him feel more and more guilty.

His enemy he hated, but he loved his own lover. He could not imagine life without Boris, be that from a change or otherwise. He could only imagine the devastation that the American loud mouth would have over his changed feelings, his altered mind, and the man he once wanted. Even enemies deserved love. It was like in those stories that Boris loved, _love_ as its own essence conquers all things.

He looked at the pages that spread across the tiling floor, soaking in water, grime and everything else that had yet to be mopped up. It was for the best the information was lost, but he was sure that there was probably some copy of this information somewhere. And if he did not actually _do_ something, the Snipers would come back and demand that Hummel be given the responsibility of altering the Soldier.

 

Maxwell heaved the gurney into the back of the ambulance with a final huff. He was so relieved that it was done. He could have cried, his muscles were aching so much. He slammed the back doors shut with a tired sigh. He had to keep himself moving, because if he stopped for a rest, he would never finish.

“Doctor!” the Heavy’s voice was always loud, so it startled him, while he was at his peak paranoia. He put a hand on his chest and panted for breath at the fright. “Doctor,” the Russian lowered his voice to a soft growl, but there was a sly smirk on his face, “You should really stop being so paranoid. I am not Spy.”

“It’s not _Spies_ I’m worried about right now,” he secured the back doors, before he headed to the driver’s wheel.

“Where are you going?” Boris sounded disgruntled, “Are you leaving me behind again?”

“No Heavy,” he gave the bigger man a fond smile, “In fact, it would be bes- safer, if you came with me.”

“Safer?” the Heavy inquired.

Max glanced around warily. He was not sure where either of the Snipers were. Even worse, he did not know who all they were working with. Already an Engineer had betrayed their truce, resulting in both RED Spies interrogating him. No doubt the BLU Spies had a chance at him as well. With the worry of not being able to trust those around him, a resident Sniper no less, he felt too anxious to discuss his fears here, out in the open.

“Get in,” he opened the door to the driver’s side, “I will explain on the way.”

“Where will we be going?” Boris asked, as he clambered clumsily into the passenger seat.

Max quickly buckled his seat belt and started the vehicle down the road, “I have a patient in the back. I do not feel able to treat him.”

“Max, you are not well?” Boris sounded taken aback and worried. He must have been very worried to have slipped up with his name.

“I am fine,” Max pushed back his hair, as it felt to him like it was bedraggled.

The motion must have been a tell, because Boris reached over to rub his shoulder. “Stress is getting to you, doctor?” he asked, softly.

“Yes,” Maxwell sighed, “Yes it is.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Joshua had both BLU Engineers, a BLU Soldier, a BLU Heavy, a BLU Medic, a BLU Pyro and the other BLU Demoman all loaded up into the back of a big Builders League United truck. He would be set if he had the Scout and a Sniper, but he was not sure where either of them were. Nobody had seen Jackson in hours, so he figured the man must have gone off on some nature hike, like the backwoods idiot he was. He figured it best to leave the Scout alone, as he searched the base high and low for the other BLU Soldier.

He would not bother with the Spies. Whatever was going on, Jacques had given him this task for some reason. Of course, he had warned him to use finesse, but surely the Spy would have known that a Demoman like Forbes would only use his own techniques. Even a Soldier was smart enough to know that Joshua did things big and loud. So long as they found and ruined whatever was attacking their Sniper, it would work out fine.

That was the whole problem. Somebody was coming after their Sniper. Forbes was sure that the Spy did not have the whole story, and that the Sniper’s girlfriend was not the target but he bait. Forbes was sure that a Spy would _think_ he knew everything. Of course he would be so cocky as to think he knew all and could just do with what information he had.

“So how’s this going down, son?” one of the Engineers.

“We’re followin’ you without much lead as to how we’re doin’ this,” the other Engineer added.

All eyes turned to Joshua. He felt really awkward under this sort of pressure. He was known as a team drunk – the guy who could drink even the other Demoman under the table. The only time everybody looked at him at once was when he was doing something so stupid that he had to be drunk off his ass, or when he was offering them drinks. He was not used to taking up the baton of leadership.

“What is plan?” the Heavy asked, curiously.

He cleared his throat nervously, “Well, I uh…haven’t got much of a plan.”

Disgusted and disconcerted noises responded to him. He started to feel more frightened at the prospect of leading them, just from their noises. He cleared his throat again, trying to gain some thought or even a bit of courage in himself.

“Look buddy, we are behind you on this,” one of the Engineers patted his arm. He had a soothing tone in his voice that put the mercenaries at ease. “We just gotta head into this with a plan.”

“Do you have any information on where we are going? What we are up against?” the doctor asked, shifting his glasses up his nose.

He seemed the least like a Medic of any man he had met, meeting the Engineers’ heights and having much less muscle mass. He was dressed like a Medic, he talked like a Medic, but everything about him physically just looked small and pathetic to Joshua.

“We’re up against mercenaries who are hired specifically for assassination jobs,” he explained, “And we’re targeting one of their resources.”

They gathered around the Demoman as he explained what he knew. All the while, the truck rumbled along, as everybody had forgotten about the Soldier driving. What they could not see could not hurt them, could it?

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh decloaked around the corner from where he had last seen the BLU Sniper. He pulled out his disguise kit and put on a RED disguise. They were in RED territory after all. He stepped around the corner looking like a RED Medic, Maxwell Fischer.

He was surprised to see that the BLU Sniper was there with the resident RED Sniper, talking like they were pals. The RED Sniper shot him a snarl as he approached, so he tried to make himself look delighted at seeing them, an expression Max wore often when he saw the people he acquainted himself with.

“Doc? What you doing out of the infirmary?” the RED growled.

“I am not a caged bird, Sniper!” Hugh scoffed in a perfect imitation of Maxwell’s voice.

“I just saw you in the infirmary, doc! And, I told you to get that surgery done with,” the RED Sniper growled. The BLU was quiet, studying the Spy before him with tentative care for detail. “We all have orders to follow,” the RED went on, “Yours are for the Soldier.”

“Ah yes! About that!” Hugh waved dismissively. Whatever Maxwell was doing with his own teammate was none of his concern at the moment.

“ _What_ about that?” the RED Sniper growled with disdain.

His eyes were burning with fury at the Spy. Hugh did not remember the Sniper being so disdainful of anybody, then again he was usually quiet and laid back. He must have been in an exceptionally bad mood.

“I have some questions,” he explained, “Some follow up questions if you will. Before I can do much more, I need to know some of the details that weren’t given.”

“I cannot give you all the intel,” the RED Sniper growled.

“It’s just a few minor details,” Hugh said, waving his hands around dismissively, “It’ll take but two minutes.”

The RED Sniper rolled his eyes at him, “Fine. What’s your question?”

“Ooh!” Hugh acted surprised, “I left my notes on the procedure in the infirmary. Please, come with me!”

“I ain’t followin’ you nowhere,” the RED growled.

“Just humor him for now, so he’ll get the job done,” the BLU Sniper chimed in.

The RED rolled his eyes again and motioned for Hugh to follow, “Fine. Come on. Let’s go get your notes.”

The two Snipers took the lead, leading who they thought was the RED Medic to his infirmary. How they thought this was safer than him leading them, he had no idea. Hugh was suppressing laughter at the nasty thoughts of how gruesomely he could kill them. Their backs were facing him and the kills were perfectly align for a succession. When he pulled out his knife, feeling its weight in his palm, he allowed himself an excited smirk.

When he raised the butterfly knife over his head, the Administrator’s voice crackled overhead, “Attention! A BLU Spy is in the base!”

Confusion hit him first. Why was the BLU Sniper walking around in the open, with no alerts on him? He was certainly not a Spy, so why was he able to walk around and Spy was not? Next, he was struck with panic, as the two men started to turn to him. He acted quickly, striking the RED Sniper in the back. Before the BLU Sniper could raise his weapon, Hugh cloaked, hiding himself from sight and walking around the Sniper.

The paranoid Sniper held his machete up at chest height, ready to use it. He was not able to see the Spy, so searching around was a fruitless task. Hugh could jump in and strike him, but that was not what he wanted to do. It would take him more than ten minutes to get back to the BLU base if he send the man through respawn. If that was the case, the man would have the monitors to show who had killed him, evidence worth turning the rest of the BLU team against him.

He eased in closer, watching the Sniper’s movements carefully. He had to attack him properly, the butterfly ready to be a threat but not a legitimate danger. It was when the Sniper turned, checking the area on his opposite side, that Hugh decided to strike. He caught him in a headlock and slammed into his knees. Once the Sniper dropped to the floor, he pulled the man’s head back – hat discarded on the floor – and pressed the blade to his Adam’s apple.

The Sniper made a sound, an exclamation of pain and then a hiss. He tried to look over his shoulder at the Spy, but Hugh kept him tight by the neck with one arm, his blade pressed under the soft palette. Just a little pressure would send the tip right up through the man’s tongue.

“Who are you working for?” Hugh growled into his ear. Soft chuffs and grunts responded to him, as the Sniper struggled but kept quiet. “Who are you working with? Who all is in on this?” he demanded.

The Sniper refused to speak. He even bit down on his lower lip to restrain himself. He kept trying to look over his shoulder, to look at Hugh’s masked face, as if that would do him any good in this situation.

“There he is!” he heard a RED Soldier shout.

Hugh softly swore a string of French curses. If he released the Sniper in lieu of getting away, the Sniper could go anywhere. If he killed the Sniper, he would have to hurry back and hope he could catch him in time, though he would already be fully prepared with his weaponry. The last option was to kill them both and desperately struggle for the upper hand.

He felt a sticky hit him in the side, but he had no time. He ran the blade into the Sniper’s throat, effectively killing him as he drowned in blood. Then he turned on himself. He barely had chance enough to stick himself with his knife before the stickies went off. It was painful and frustrating, as the world spun in pain before it could go black.

 

Hugh respawned and sighed. Same old feeling of death. Same old feeling of coming back. It would never change, and there was nothing ever quite safe about the feeling of it.

He felt less safe the moment a fist hit his face. He reeled back, surprised and pained by the strike. He was further assaulted by a few more punches, before he caught sight of a machete blade. He would not have any of that, instead darting out of the way and grabbing for the dead ringer sitting in the open Spy locker. Why was Réne so thoughtless, he wondered. He dismissed the quandary as he activated the pocket watch, just in time to turn on the Sniper.

“Come here, you bloody spook!” the Sniper roared in anger.

“No,” he used one of the Heavys’ miniguns as a step, shoving it as he hopped onto the lockers, so that it slammed to the ground. Unable to get onto the lockers from the bench, the Sniper flailed, trying to reach him. He slid along the tops of the lockers, moving towards the end of the row.

As he had predicted, the Sniper followed him, hoping to catch him off guard as he came down. He could barely suppress a smirk as he angled his drop, turning so that he caught the man in the shoulder. It was not a kill, it was just a minor injury. He did not need the man dead yet.

It seemed that the Sniper could fight through any kind of pain though, adrenaline and perhaps that Australium pounding through his veins. He came right at Spy with the injured arm, raising his machete to run it through his side. It missed major arteries. It left his bones alone. But, there was still a lot of blood pouring down his side.

“This team could do with one less Spy around,” the Sniper growled.

“I’m on respawn, stupid!” Hugh snapped. In spite of himself, he dropped to one knee, both hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

The Sniper snickered, with a deadly smirk, “Not if I put you out of respawn range.”

“What are you-” Hugh grunted as the Sniper slammed his knee into his gut.

He picked him up, rising him until he brought his machete onto Hugh’s right arm. He cried out, screaming in pain and for help. He cried out for Medic, hoping that there was still a Medic around to hear him. Somebody had to be here, somebody who would hear him and stop the Sniper. If nothing else, somebody who could come by and kill him so he would respawn.

Where was Andrew? The question brought him into a surreal state of mind. He should be panicking about his arm and about the situation he was in. Instead his mind wanted to wander to what Andrew was doing and where he was.

With the Spy disarmed – quite literally – the Sniper grabbed him and flung him over his shoulder. Humiliated, Hugh started to thrash and kick. The pain struck him again and again though, his arm dangling by threads of tissue and bone. His side soaked the Sniper’s blue vest with red, as he was carried out of respawn and out towards one of the Builders League United trucks. He tried to thrash harder, but the pain was causing him to gasp for air, desperately caught between pain and a strange sickness.

“Hey!” a familiar American accent caught his attention, but not the right one.

He forced his head up to see the BLU Scout running their way, a shotgun in hand. He let a small prayer of hope pass his lips in French.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Dooley was just about to enter the infirmary, when Crawley – the resident Sniper – stormed in past him. He was a bit peeved, but chose not to let it on. He stepped inside to find the Sniper calling for the Medic.

“The hell is that bloody bastard?” Crawley roared with anger.

Dooley scratched his ear, “I dunno, but shouting’s not gonna do ya much good, if he don’ wannabe found, son.”

He noted the barely conscious man in the corner. He appreciated the resident Medic for acknowledging how Reiner Hummel was a danger to his colleagues. Even as the handler, Dooley never knew what to do about the crazed Medic, other than let him do his job.

Crawley turned to him with a snarl, “Wasn’t talkin’ to ya, wanker!”

Dooley frowned, following the Sniper from the medical ward. He needed a Medic – a functioning one at that – and if Crawley was looking for the resident Medic, then Dooley might find him too. Besides that, he was curious about Crawley’s behavior.

Up until this point, the Sniper had always been calm and reserved. He kept conversations short and words were used only when necessary. Most he ever said to Dooley was communicated in tonal grunts. This level of temper seemed too out of place to be normal, but too uncharacteristic to be a Spy.

As a handler, he felt the heavy obligation to investigate this. So, he followed the Sniper, all the way out to the trucks. The Australian looked around, then threw his hat. He started grinding his teeth together angrily. The loud grinding was irritating to Dooley’s senses.

“You looking for something?” Dooley asked.

The Sniper rounded on him. He did a double take, as a thought crossed his expression for a moment. He gave himself a little shake before his spoke.

“Engie, you’re a handler. So, you’d know where he’s gone right?” Crawley asked. It was more of a demand than a request.

Dooley hesitated with uncertainty. He was very leery that the Sniper had that kind of knowledge, without him being aware of it. Typically, the handlers were made aware of which mercenaries knew about Mann Co secrets. It made the job of _handling_ much easier. He would have to work with what information he had, given Crawley’s response.

He offered the Sniper a kindly smile, “What’s the problem, partner?”

“I asked you a question, mate,” the Sniper growled with disdain. Anger passed over his eyes as the sun glinted off of his aviators.

Before Dooley could respond, the Sniper’s fist landed in his gut. He grunted with pain, kept on his feet by the Sniper’s other hand. He reeled back though, shaking the hand off of the back of his overalls. He would not be shaken about like some useless, clueless idiot.

“So, not a Spy,” Crawley growled, “Just a really irritating teammate.”

Dooley snarled, grabbing a decent handful of the Sniper’s shirt. He yanked him around, and when the hands came up for defense, Dooley broke his aviators on his nose. He continued until the eyes were closed and the nose was leaking blood. It felt good to be the one doling out pain this time.

“I am still the handler, son. And if you done stirred some shit up with the Medic, then you damn well better start talking!” he brought the Sniper to his eye level, roaring just loud enough to go from a kindly Southerner to a spitfire cowboy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's gonna be fine. Chill. Maxwell's got him.  
> Hugh...might be okay.  
> Dooley is okay.
> 
> Question. Would any of you be interested in an ask blog centering around Hugh and Andrew?


	33. We're on the Same Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy is in a pickle and Scout seems to be his only hope.  
> Dooley's got a nasty temper that wins him a bit more respect from one of the tallest mercenaries on his team.  
> Maxwell may be doomed if Andrew cannot pull him out of his funk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: fighting ahead

The road passed quickly under the tires. The trees flying by meant nothing, other than for the shade they threw, protecting eyes from the vicious sunlight. It would have been a peaceful ride, if not for the tension.

Fuming hot, Dooley could not find a calm state of mind. He cool down after the fit of rage that drove him almost to the point of seeing only red. Driving the truck, Crawley was quiet and almost a little shaky. The previously angry and violent man had turned into a quiet ball of silent tension and self-pity.

Dooley glanced over to see the swelling black eye. The bruised face stayed pointed at the road ahead, with a forlorn expression. He was quiet anyways, wanting to avoid more bruising and injuries from what was the smallest Engineer in the woods.

He did not know the Medic called Maxwell very well, but Dooley had a feeling about where he might have gone, based on the information he was given by the RED Spy – not Maurice, the Spy who refused a nickname. After having everything explained by Crawley – which revealed that he had very a low pain tolerance level, and he was not good at keeping his mouth shut – he first became outraged and violent over Soldier’s situation. When he learned more about what was going on, he thought that the Medic must have gone to deliver Soldier to someplace safe. Given he took the ambulance and things seemed chaotic at the base, perhaps he went to the hospital, where Soldier would be tended to for any injuries he had acquired.

He could feel his lip twitching with an angry snarl growing. He had been through so much in the past few days that he was not sure how to process it all. The torture was almost too much for him to handle, but after seeing Crawley crumple under his fists, he felt really good about himself. He had withstood severe torture. He had spent so long holding his tongue too, until his body had to give up the information they wanted.

The truth of it was that after taking a beating from Soldier, he was in such an emotional state of shock that he could not think about his job. He could not think about being the handler and why he was trusted with information that the other handlers were not. Soldier had snapped, losing his mind to the red he saw. He never thought Soldier could be so passionate about another human being’s life, having thought that he would have been too conflicted by the offer of his own life in exchange for hers.

It made him tear up just to think of how much he had screwed up. He turned to the window, not wanting Crawley to see him like this. He wanted to go back to his room and cry his heart out again. As if he had not already cried high eyes out enough times before, thinking about the friendship he had ruined and the chances he had missed.

He thought back to their days in Mexico. It felt like it was so long ago that he could just spend time around the Soldier, with no questions asked and no qualms about it. Even on the battlefield, he used to set up a dispenser, and when the Soldier was feeling out of sorts, he would sit a minute and talk to Dooley. There were times just after the battle, where the Soldier would invite him to spend time with him, hanging out and having a few beers.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Joshua looked down at his leg through blood tainted tears. He was losing his vision to an injury just over his eye. He could not be far from death, a familiar feeling he knew too well, but he had long forgotten the fear of not having respawn around. It just went to show that he was not the mercenary he used to be.

“Who sent you?” a deep growl came over his head. A hand grabbed his hair, where his hat usually sat, and pulled his face up.

Pain hit him, mixing with the terror. His bloody leg had already gone numb and the rest of him might as well have been a corpse already. He could not tell what was going on anymore, blinded by the sensation of death overcoming him. Blackness ensued, drowning out his teammates’ cries for help.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Sniper! What are you doing?!” Drake exclaimed, astounded at the Spy’s injuries.

“Spy killed me,” the Sniper growled. As a secondary thought, he dropped Hugh on the truck, which caused him to scream out in pain. “Check the kill feed and you’ll find it to be true,” the Sniper assured him.

Scout frowned at the Spy, before looking at the Sniper, “Jackson, what are you doing?”

“I’m uh…going to go find Réne,” the Sniper replied hesitantly. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward having to make up an explanation to the Scout.

“What are you doing with the Spy, man?” the Scout demanded, pressing further.

“He’s…he killed me Scout,” the Sniper said, pointedly, “You don’t find that suspicious? You don’t find it strange that he is team killing on the off hours.”

“S-Scout!” Hugh tried to cry out, but he was breathless, clutching at his injured side. It hurt so much to talk.

“I mean…I get…I get wanting revenge,” Drake cleared his throat, “But you gotta take him to the infirmary! Look, he’s injured! Let’s just get him down there, and the doc can take care of him.”

“The doctor wasn’t down there last I checked,” the Sniper frowned.

“Scout please,” Hugh’s voice was weak as he pleaded.

“You gonna talk?” the Sniper turned to him, “You wanna explain what you were doing?”

Hugh looked at the Scout. The man still looked as young as the day he joined Builders League United. Those eyes still looked so inexperienced and naïve to him. It was strange to think that he was nearing ninety now.

Scout did not know about what Mann Co was doing. If anything, he would probably either take it the hardest or the best. He would either relish in the attention being given to him by the viewers, or he would have a meltdown over it. Given his own experience, he did not feel it was in the youth’s best interest to have a meltdown like that.

“Spy?” Scout asked. He was not going to help him until he got an explanation.

Hugh looked to Scout with as much desperation as he could put into his eyes. He had to know what was going on, or at least, something of what was going on. Scout had come to him about this Sniper in the first place, after all. He had to know that something was going on.

“I heard this fucker on the phone,” the Sniper said.

Hugh winced as he looked at the Sniper. He received a glare, as the Sniper started to weave his tale. Hugh was too weak to say much though, his body growing tired. He felt like he was melting into the metal of the truck, he was so exhausted.

“I heard him talking about killing a Sniper,” he went on.

Scout looked between the men, with confusion and panic. Hugh could only imagine what was going through his mind. What could he be thinking, just letting the Spy lie there in pain. All the while, he would listen to the Sniper’s words about how Hugh was plotting against the other BLU Sniper, and how he had killed Jackson to cover his tracks, only to be follied by the respawn.

It ended with a loud blast. Hugh opened his eyes, the world a narrow tunnel surrounded by black. The Scout was holding his baby face blaster, and the Sniper had fallen to the ground, leaving a spatter of blood beside Hugh. When his eyes came back to the Scout’s, the barrel of the gun was pointed at his head.

“See you in respawn, moron,” the Scout said, just before the blast hit his forehead.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew woke with a painful start. He was sitting in a vehicle, with things rocking around him, while his head thumped to the beat of his heart. He slowly sat up and looked around at medical equipment and supplies. This looked an awful lot like the inside of an ambulance. What would he be doing in the back of an ambulance though?

The vehicle came to a stop and he wished there were windows. He could not tell if it was day or night, or even where they were. All he knew was that his head hurt and that they were no longer moving.

Suddenly, the back doors opened, “Ah! You are awake! Wonderful!”

He blinked as the light of a street lamp beamed in at him. The pinks and purples of sunset shone off to the right of his vision. He climbed forward, moving towards the red garbed Medic.

“Where are we? What happened?” he blinked at the Medic as he clambered out.

Boris shut the doors for him as they grouped together. One quick glance around reminded Andrew that this was the hospital. They were back in the city. They had returned to where Melisa and her baby were being kept.

“What are we doing here?” he turned around, looking at all of the buildings around this street.

“You were brought to my infirmary with quite the concussion,” the Medic stated, with an awkward chuckle, “Seeing as I am not typically a welcome face to your base, I figured it would be best to bring you here instead. Your friends are probably here, after all.”

Andrew scrunched his brow with confusion. Why did the Medic not just send him though respawn? He was on RED, and they were not friends, so there would have been no qualms about sending him to his death and back to the BLU base. Surely there was something else going on. He wanted to ask, but was unsure of how, especially when he saw a burning truck down the street.

“What is that?” he asked, feeling stupid for having said such a stupid question. What he really wanted to know was why that truck was on fire.

“I…uh…” the Medic looked around and his eyes widened. He looked quite panicked, as if he had not seen that before.

“Doctor, let’s get out of here,” Boris said, taking the Medic’s arm.

Suddenly, a loud set of popping filled the air. Andrew flinched but stood still. It had to be in his mind. It had to be unreal, as they were in the city, not near the base.

The Medic cried out in pain very suddenly, and louder blasts came from a building nearby. Boris grabbed the German man, practically flinging him at the ambulance for cover. Andrew could only turn and watch as bullets pelted the giant Russian man, causing him to cry out in pain.

“NOOOO!” the Medic flung the doors of the ambulance open, rushing to grab a weapon.

Andrew darted towards the ambulance and grabbed for the first thing he could get his hands on. It was just a crowbar, but it was something. He moved with the Medic towards the source of the bullets, a barrage of needles flying into the dark window. Before the Medic could run out of ammunition, Andrew flung himself inside, tucking to roll across the room. The two men inside were trying to reload their guns when Andrew brought the tool down on their heads, sufficiently ending their lives.

When the screaming stopped and they were still, he made his way to the door. He paused a moment to look around. It was a closed tea shop, with assorted green bags on the shelves. The whole place had been torn apart, the tables used for cover and some of the products fallen on the ground.

He resumed out into the street, where he found the Medic hunched over his Heavy. He had a medigun out, but cried desperately as he did not receive the intended results. An arm was wrapped around the Heavy’s shoulders, as if to comfort him as he was healed.

“Doctor,” Boris spoke softly.

Andrew stepped near, but was cautious. They were still on the RED team and were probably leery of a BLU nearby them. This also seemed like a friendship thing, like they were very close to each other. That was probably why the Medic had bent over to-

Andrew was surprised, watching from a few yards away, as the Medic embraced the Heavy Weapons Guy. The bigger man weakly placed a hand on the back of his salt and pepper hair, pulling him into a kiss, where their tears met their lips. Andrew’s heart drop, as he watched them hold each other, and then the Heavy lose all life. More tears poured down the Medic’s face as he began to sob.

Andrew finally stepped towards him, taking a knee beside him. There were more gunshots around them, but Andrew was not paying attention to that right now. He needed to get this Medic to some place safer. He put his hand on the Medic’s shoulder, trying to force himself not to cry when he saw the tears streaking down the man’s face. He looked so distraught it was maddening. Andrew knew he would feel this way if anything happened to the people he cared about.

“Medic!” he gave the man’s shoulder a gentle shake.

“No!” the Medic flung his arm, forcing the Soldier’s hand away, “Get away from me!” He sniffled loudly.

“Medic, we have to go!” Andrew exclaimed.

“He wouldn’t be dead if not for me!” the Medic shuddered and sniffled.

“It’s not your fault!” Andrew grabbed his shoulder again, this time a little tighter with his fingers, “It’s not!”

“I shouldn’t have let him come!” the Medic sniffled.

Andrew took the man by both shoulders and gave him a solid shake, “We have to leave! Now!”

The Medic shook his head, “No, it’s my fault he was here. It’s my fault he is dead. It’s…it’s all my fault.”

Andrew raised his hand and slapped the Medic across the face. Stunned, the man said nothing, staring blindly at nothing. He just seemed perplexed at the whole situation.

“I did not know him for long, but I know that he cared about you,” Andrew said firmly.

It was only partially true, since he only learned about the depth of their relationship just now. But, Boris had spoken fondly of the Medic before, as one would talk about a dear friend or family member. He needed to get the Medic’s mind on task though, even if it meant dragging out the truth a little bit. He could exaggerate how much he knew of Boris’ feelings if it would get this man to move his hotheaded German ass.

“He would be frustrated at you for staying in the line of fire,” he told the Medic, “He would be yelling at you with big Russian words that are his only expression of just how angrily he loves you.”

He let that sink in for a few moments. The perplexed face looked a little bit more calm now. Perhaps he was thinking about the Heavy and how much he cared about him in turn.

“What do you think he would say?” he interrupted the man’s thoughts.

The Medic’s eyes moved about, a sign that he was thinking. Andrew’s heart started to race, excited that he might actually getting through to the man. When the Medic’s teary eyes met his, there was something both sad and bold in his expression.

“You’re right,” he took Andrew’s hand, even when it was not offered.

Andrew helped him to his feet, watching as the man stooped for his medigun. When he straightened up, he latched the medigun to himself and straightened his clothes. He turned back to Andrew, looking prim and proper, without a hair out of place.

“Soldier, fetch the shotgun from the passenger seat,” he turned on the medigun, pointing it at Andrew, “We have some assassins to kill.”

Andrew smiled and darted towards the door as instructed. He could already feel the rush of the medigun’s healing powers pushing him forward. The power of it made him feel invincible and like he had somewhere he had to be. He loaded the shotgun and filled his pockets with ammunition as he rejoined the Medic.

“Let’s move!” the Medic motioned with one hand.

Andrew headed in the direction that the Medic had insisted upon. They went together, moving down the street towards the worse parts of what seemed to be a battle in the city. There were cars overturned, windows broken, and some fires started. He heard noise in the distance, but this area seemed to have few or no people around.

They came upon a squadron of what seemed like military, or perhaps they were police, Andrew was not sure of the difference in this day and age. They were all lined up, their vehicles blocking the way, and their guns out and ready. One of them pulled out a loud speaker that made a lot of irritating noise.

“Put your weapons down!” the man announced over the speaker loudly.

The soldiers, or police, he still could not tell, lined up around their cars, taking refuge there, like a weapon would not ever manage to set off their vehicle like a bomb. Andrew actually started laughing at that, thinking of how Demoman would have turned those vehicles into a sweep of explosions with a well-placed bomb. At least”, he figured that was what the Demoman would do.

“This is not a weapon!” the Medic shouted at them.

“We will give no further warnings!” the man on the speaker announced.

Andrew turned to the Medic, “I don’t think they realize that we are on their side.”

The Medic nodded, then glanced down at his machinery, which started to spark, “I am fully charged!”

“Open fire!” a voice shouted, setting off several rifles.

Andrew flinched, just before the power of the uber overwhelmed him. He smirked as the bullets bounced right off of his skin, but he was pulled away by a hand. He looked to see the Medic pulling him back towards the hospital in retreat. They made it through the first set of doors, but the next set was locked and seemingly chained. That seemed strange, since it had been so open before.

“We cannot get in here,” the Medic told him.

“How do we get in?” Andrew asked him.

“We don’t,” the Medic turned and glared at something through the glass, “We’ve walked into some form of trap though.”

Andrew turned to see armed mercenaries surrounding the front. They were not dressed in uniforms though. They were wearing a dark camouflage color that did not suit the urban city environment.

“Do you happen to have another uber?” Andrew asked, hesitantly.

The Medic looked at his gun, “Sixty six percent.”

“Fuck,” Andrew muttered with frustration.

“O-” the lead man barely got the syllable out before a rifle shot went through his head. Andrew could only watch in awe as the bullet pierced the glass and zoomed past him.

*Linebreak*

“What fresh hell is this?” Dooley spoke aloud as they came to city streets. The sun was pulling low by the Eastern buildings.

“Looks like somebody started a riot,” Crawley pushed back the brim of his hat, tilting it back on his head, “Without the people.”

“I see some people,” Dooley pointed at the armed men running through the street.

The familiar red gleam caught his eye and he was drawn to it. He watched, half in amazement and half in confusion, as the Soldier clad in blue ran for the hospital, alongside a Medic wearing red gloves. It was a strange sight to see, between the Soldier glowing with the red beam and the two rushing into the building together. They were quickly trapped though, ambushed by a set of men clad in what should have been forest camo, not city battlements camo.

“The hell is that fucker doing?” the Sniper growled.

“Doesn’t matter, grab your gun,” Dooley demanded.

“What?” the Sniper’s head spun with surprise.

“Stop questioning me, and do it,” Dooley spat.

“You are pushing your luck with this,” Crawley growled.

Dooley rolled his eyes, “How good are you _really_ , with a sniper rifle?”

Crawley’s frown deepened, but he pulled his hat down and reached into the back of his gun, “Hold the wheel, mate.”

Dooley quickly grabbed the wheel with his left hand, as the vehicle slowed down. He waited, watching as the Sniper lined up his shot through the driver side window. Dooley was easily able to keep the car moving in a straight line, but he did not like the prospect of the parked cars ahead of them.

“Hit the brake, Crawley,” he snapped.

“One thing at a time, mate!” the Sniper pulled his gun in to turn his attention to the pedals on the floor. The vehicle stopped and Dooley quickly put it in park.

While the Sniper was busy distracting the mercenaries attacking the Soldier and Medic duo, Dooley rushed to the back of the truck. There were plenty of supplies back there for a sentry and grabbing a wrench, he quickly got to work on building one. Much to his delight, the machine surprised the assassins, who had not been trained to handle a quickly assembled, auto aimed gun. He gave the gun an affectionate pat on the head, watching as the BLU Soldier emerged from the room of shattered glass.

“Engie?” the Soldier peered at him with a look of curiosity and suspicion.

“That’s how we do it, Texas style!” Dooley smirked, wanting to sound rather cool about what had just happened.

“What are you doing here?!” the Medic emerged from the room of shattered glass, but was addressing the Sniper instead.

“Here to collect _your_ sorry ass,” the Sniper growled.

“Let’s get out of here partner,” Dooley motioned for the two of them to hop in.

“N-no!” the Medic said sternly, raising his chin. The element of haughtiness was lost by the stains on his cheeks.

“You damn well better get into this truck,” the Sniper growled, “Or you’re going to regret it.”

“How’s about you shut up and let me do the talking, slick?” Dooley waved his wrench in the Sniper’s face. The man hesitated, watching the wrench cautiously.

“I’m not going back with that-that monster!” the Medic waved the end of his medigun at the Sniper.

The Sniper frowned at that, but did not say anything. It seemed rather strange to Dooley. These two men had worked together for decades, and they were now having problems. Though, it only went to show that Mann Co did not care for friendships or trust, only for work to get done, and whatever relations these two had had in the past was shredded by whatever sides they had chosen on this issue.

Dooley’s thoughts went to the Soldier though. The procedure that the Sniper had been instructed to hand over to the Medic had been one that assumed that the BLU Soldier was homosexual. That thought was driving Dooley crazy with curiosity. While the concept killed the cat, he was aching to know for sure, and to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.

He snatched a stray helmet from the back of the truck and strode towards the Soldier. He offered up the helmet as a sign of greeting and peace. The Soldier seemed to take it into stride, placing the hat on his head.

“May I have a word with you?” he asked.

“You’ve had your fair share of words, Engie,” Andrew growled.

He raised his hands defensively, “You’re right. Fair’s fair. I just…I just wanna talk. That’s all. I don’t know how to make it up to you. But I want to.”

The Soldier’s lower lip stuck out from his protruding jaw, emphasizing the shape of his frown. It looked like Dooley would not get a chance to talk to him at all at this rate.

“You had your chance before,” the Soldier explained, “You told me your traitorous acts. And now you want me to pretend like they didn’t happen?”

“Darn it, Solly…” the Engineer sighed, “When you’re right, you’re right. Look though…I’m sorry…I really am.”

“Not much you can do to change what you did, Engie,” the Soldier said, scornfully.

“I know…and…I can’t make it up to ya. I see that,” he did not feel any better from this. In fact, this was making him feel worse. “But if you’d let me, I wanna help ya.”

“I’ve run out of patient trust, Engineer,” the Soldier snarled.

Dooley just about gave up when his sentry gun started going off. He turned to see a whole bunch of men with guns heading their way. He recognized them though, being this close to them. He knew they were the hired guns that were supposed to kill the BLU Sniper’s girlfriend, but it was supposed to be a stealth job, and not with this many men.

He trotted back to the truck and pulled out a shotgun, “Let’s get to it!” He quickly started loading the chamber in the weapon.

“Engineer, the fuck are you playing at?” Crawley asked with frustration.

“We’re making a stand here,” the Engineer pointed to the ground beneath his feet.

All the while, the patta tat of his sentry going off filled his ears with a warm sensation. It was a welcome sound, to hear the sentry taking down his enemies for him. And these enemies were completely dumbfounded at how to stop it.

“Engineer!” the Medic called out. He looked over his shoulder to acknowledge the older man’s plea. “We have no respawn out here!” the Medic gave him a look like he was insane.

He glanced over at Andrew, who already had his shotgun raised and aimed for the nearest enemy. He smiled a bit, feeling good about the Soldier being on his side for a change. It had been a long time, as long as the man had been back on the BLU team.

“Then let’s make this fight count, boys!” he chuckled, turning his attention to the sentry gun to upgrade it, “We _are_ mercenaries after all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still love Dooley. I'm glad this side of Dooley is back. Not the guy trying to be a good handler, the guy who's there as a mercenary and friend. This Dooley I like. (don't fuck with the short guy who seems too nice, he'll fuck your shit up)  
> Poor Maxwell. He'll never quite recover, but don't worry, Andrew's got him.  
> I wonder what is going through Scout's mind...
> 
> Okay, so I did make the ask blog. I haven't decided on too much of what I want to do with it. Mostly asks. I might make some art, but I might just use sfm. Feel free to send any kind of ask.  
> http://amour-loyalty.tumblr.com


	34. Gone, Never Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake and Hugh have a chat in respawn.  
> Dooley has had just about enough of Mann Co's bullshit.  
> Forbes is suicidal.

Drake watched as the Sniper respawned. The guy looked disgruntled, clenching his fists and his teeth. Little did he know that Scout was hiding by the lockers behind him, waiting with a shotgun in hand. Before the man could even turn to his own locker, Drake set off several rounds, turning the guy’s head into a fine pulp.

“Yea!” he laughed, stepping out of his spot by the lockers, “That’s what you get, you son of a bitch! You think you can hide shit from us? You can’t hide shit! I’m like a Spy, you can’t see me! I’m the Spy Scout! You can’t see me! I’m like something that goes really freaking fast and then boom! You’re dead!” He was laughing, enjoying his little monologue over the dead body.

“So, spying is not so bad a class after all, is it?” a French accent caught him by surprise, creeping right up his spine.

He flinched, shaken and freaked out by the appearance of the BLU Spy. He should have known he would be there, he sent him through respawn right after the Sniper, after all. He should have prepared himself to sneak up on the Spy when he first respawned, but he had gotten carried away with gloating over the Sniper.

“So, you understand the situation then?” the Spy approached his own locker to grab a loadout.

He picked an ambassador, his pocket watch and a weird looking knife for stabbing people in the backs. Scout never understood Spy loadouts so he tried not to think too hard on it. He was sure the Spy knew well enough what he was picking and what for anyways.

“Well, basically,” Scout shrugged, “I know that Jackson was talking about murder. Like, not just team killing…like ultimate murder. And he had you or Réne pinned for the part, I’m sure. But uh…there’s something I don’t really get. Well, actually there’s a few things that I don’t get.”

“And I cannot explain them all,” the Spy admitted. He had a strangely humble tone of voice.

“I get it,” Scout rolled his eyes as he holstered his baby face blaster, “You are a Spy. You gotta keep secrets. Stuff is secret and even your teammates can’t know about it. Yadda yadda.”

“Listen, Scout,” the Spy turned to him, “This may very well be the last time we ever speak.”

“Wait, what?” Drake exclaimed. Thinking of the Spy going felt weird, almost as weird as when they took the Soldier.

“If all goes well, I will disappear and that will be the last you hear from me,” the Spy explained.

“S-spy, you can’t be serious, man,” Drake walked towards him, hoping to close some sort of space boundary between them.

He looked the man up and down when he turned around. He never felt close to the Spy, he never understood how the Soldier could even trust him. However, there was this sense of comradery that made it feel weird to imagine the Spy disappearing. In some small ways, the Spy had shown his human side to the Soldier, and to Drake. He was a part of this team, as much as any other man.

“It’s for the best,” Spy explained, smoothing out his jacket, “The Soldier and I will disappear. We won’t be coming back here, and we will not be associating with the company.”

“Uh…you sure that you have your head on straight?” Scout asked, a bit confused.

Maybe he hit the guy too hard with the shotgun. Or maybe the Sniper shook him up too much. It was understandable to be scared, this place was full of mercenaries, and at any turn they could turn on you. It was not until the guys from Mexico came that they thought they actually had a threat of somebody trying to kill them out of respawn. Drake himself never thought these guys – a majority of whom acted too nice for comfort – would ever hurt a fly if it was not on respawn. They had this weird set of unwritten rules regarding fighting and respawn, and so theywere able to befriend the guys on the other team.

“I mean, it’s okay to be a bit scared,” Scout shrugged, offering a bit of consolation, “I can understand that.”

“I assure you, that is not the problem,” the Spy stated.

“Well…what are we going to do?” Drake asked.

“We? No,” Spy shook his head and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You’re going to stay here, mon ami. It has been fun, but at my age, mercenary work has gotten more than warying. I am going to find the Soldier a-”

Scout cut him off at that last part by raising a finger, “He’s basically nowhere to be found on the base. I can’t find him anywhere. I searched all the places. Even Alhwin doesn’t know where he went.”

He flinched, “He couldn’t have gone with Forbes, could he?”

“Uh…” Drake hesitated, trying to remember which of the guys was Forbes, “No. No I don’t think so. Last time I saw him though was when we caught Jackson talking on the phone.”

“So, that’s how ya knew,” a familiar Australian growl announced that the Sniper had respawned.

“Sniper!” Scout reacted without thinking, but it was not in the way he would have intended.

The Spy was faster than the two of them, drawing his pistol and letting off several shots. The Sniper finally dropped from the bullet wounds in his head. He fell against the lockers he had charged at, his jaw hanging slack.

“I suppose the only way I am going to know where he went is to ask,” the Spy tucked his pistol away and brushed his suit again.

“You-you’re not really gonna…leave, are you?” Scout asked. The Spy gave him a curious look, with a raise of the eyebrow. “J-Jacques,” he stammered over the name awkwardly, “You’re not gonna leave us down a Spy, are ya?”

The Spy chuckled, putting on a kindly smile and patting him on the back. He sighed and shook his head, “Don’t worry. I will be replaced soon enough. As it is, I cannot see the point of staying. I have forgotten why I have even been here for so long. And it…this war is pointless.” He waved off the thought with a shake of his head.

“No it’s not!” Scout exclaimed defensively, “It’s been…it’s been us against them! BLU against RED! We’re Builders League United! We’re the best! With only the best of each class! Sure we suffered for a while there…we were losing for a time, but we got back on our feet! That should mean something, shouldn’t it?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Spy stated.

“Then what?” Scout scoffed with exasperation.

“Freedom means a little more to me, right now,” Spy took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, “Besides, we have never been better. The teams have always been equal in abilities. Always balanced. Always the same.”

“No way, Spy!” Drake quickly dug for whatever he could think of to encourage the Spy to think better of the team, “You’re the best Spy! I mean, if you go, we’re stuck with just Réne. Of all four around here, you’re the best! We need you, man. You _gotta_ stay!”

“Once again,” the Spy sighed again, shaking his head, “I’m afraid not. Ant- the RED Spy and I have always been on equal footing. We do not always know the same things, or have the same experiences, but we are equally matched foes. I am indeed a good Spy, but I am his match, not his better. Not anymore.” The Spy frowned at his own words, pondering for a while.

“So…that’s it then?” Drake asked, “At least, tell me I get to say goodbye to the Soldier this time. I know he’s gonna go along with whatever you tell him to. Just at least let me say goodbye.”

The Spy paused, eyeing the Scout thoughtfully. He was quiet for a while, as if unsure of the request, “I will do my best to make sure that request is fulfilled.”

Drake sighed with relief and nodded. He felt better about that. Last time, Solly left without a word. There were no goodbyes, not even a note. There was just no Soldier one day, and then a new guy came in. He was not even sure where he would be without Soldier.

“While I…well…” the Spy was hesitant. He had this weird tone in his voice, one that seemed strange to him. Drake listened intently, curious as to what he could possibly have to say, with that much emotion behind his words. “It is not my place to tell you,” the Spy finally said, with a disappointed expression as he looked down at the floor.

“Tell me? Tell me what?” Drake asked eagerly.

“It’s not my place to tell you about the RED Spy,” he stated, with a dismissive shrug.

Drake frowned at that, “Spy, come on man. Is it a secret or something that you’re teasing me with?”

The Spy looked sad, almost mournful, “No, it’s not a secret. If anything you should know on your own…but…” Spy shook his head, his eyes studying Drake’s face.

Drake himself was becoming desperate, “What? What is it?! Please tell me?!” He was dying to know whatever it was.

“I…it’s not my place,” Spy said again, “But…it…well, it is the RED Spy’s place to tell you so-”

Drake did not want to hear anything about the idea of talking to the RED Spy. That guy was a dick anyways. He was always backstabbing everybody and being an asshole. He would probably never give his teammates the time of day. He probably even made his teammates uncomfortable.

“I ain’t talkin’ to no RED scumbag!” he spouted.

The Spy hesitated, getting some weird pensive look on his face, “What about the one named Maurice?”

“He’s…uhh…” Scout hesitated. He hated when Spy did that, catching people up in their own words and actions. “Maurice is cool, though,” he argued, “He’s not like the other Spies.”

“You might be surprised to know that Spies are human,” Jacques explained, “And underneath the façade is a person who is just holding a mask. Maurice just chose a different type of mask. And he’s Italian.” He shrugged at that last bit.

“So? Why do you care about RED Spies anyways?” Drake folded his arms over his chest, feeling a bit miffed at the idea of having to talk to that other RED Spy. Not Maurice, the guy without a name.

“You would be surprised at how much he has done for you,” Spy said, with a weary look on his face, “You _are_ the reason for him being here.”

“Spy don’t do that,” Scout shuddered.

“Do what?” Spy drew his eyebrows down.

“Don’t be cryptic and shit,” Drake shook off the creepy feeling.

The Spy rolled his eyes, “Just don’t be so quick to dismiss him. He may be on RED, but he is here for a purpose. He’s done things for you. And he’s done things for your moth-”

Drake drew the line there. You could talk about him all you liked. You could offend him, and he could try and laugh it off – he would not succeed, but he would try – but nobody talked about his mother. He would not have it.

“Don’t bring my mother into this, Spy!” he barked.

The Spy raised his hands defensively, “All I am saying is that you should go talk to him. No weapons. No threats. No battles. No arguing. Just go and ask him why he is here.”

“And you think that I care?” Drake scoffed.

The Spy sighed, looking like he had given up, “If you don’t want to know, then fine. It is not my place to tell you anyways. I am-”

He cut off and both of their heads swiveled. Spy had been paying better attention to the respawn this time. Before the Sniper could head for his locker, the Spy took out his legs. Drake shuddered as he watched the man try to crawl with bloody knees.

“You,” the Spy strolled over and picked the man off of the ground. He held his pistol in one hand, placing the barrel against the Sniper’s chin. “You are going to tell me where the Soldier is,” he growled.

“H-he…” the man gasped in pain, “We took him to the RED Medic. The guy was there in the infirmary.”

The Spy tensed, his eyes widening. Everything in him suddenly released as he sprung from the respawn room, leaving the Australian to fall to the ground. Curious, Drake sprinted after him.

“Hey Spy!” he called, quickly reaching the Spy’s heels. They came to his smoking room, where he stopped to dig out his keys. “What are you going to do?”

“I think I know where the Soldier is,” the Spy stated, “First I need to grab some things.”

“You’re leaving then?” Scout asked.

“Hopefully,” Spy replied, as he strode across the smoking room.

Drake followed him to the other side, “Can I help?”

The Spy sighed, turning to him as he pulled on something that made the wall move, “Of course.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew got so caught up in the fighting that he almost forgot where he was. When the fighting slowly died down, he looked behind himself to remember that they were still at the hospital. Another though occurred to him: that Esperanza was in there somewhere. He was defending her.

That was the best feeling ever. He was not just defending a location like he used to do. He was not keeping people from a briefcase, he was keeping them out of the hospital, and away from little Esperanza. That was all the reason he needed to fight this fight to his final death. He would take them down with his final breath.

He would admit to it feeling pretty good to have his old friend at his side. The RED Engineer had never been comfortable fighting him, but now they were together. They were working on the same purpose, to protect the hospital. The Sniper had been fairly reluctant, but he seemed pretty cowed by the Engineer’s shallow and almost empty threats. Soldier wondered if the Sniper was usually that scared of Engineers.

The Medic was fighting with brute force as well. He sometimes picked up a gun and started shooting at oncoming assassins, but for the most part, he kept the other three mercenaries from bleeding to death. Once in a while, the Medic got clipped by a bullet, so the Engineer took the medigun and turned it on the Medic, allowing the man a chance to shoot while he was healing. It was a rather nice time, and Andrew had to admit to that.

But, eventually the assassins ran out. They had no more men. None of them seemed half experienced enough to take out the four men hiding in the makeshift nest. Guarded by sentries, with wrecked parts of cars stacked around them as barriers and coverage from fire, as well as from debris, they were comfortable by the corner of the hospital.

“I reckon that’ll do,” the Engineer said, after a whole twenty minutes of silence.

The Medic sighed with relief, “Let’s never do that again.”

“Say, Medic…you don’t usually go nowhere without the Heavy,” the Engineer noted.

Andrew frowned, wishing he could say something that would immediately make the Engineer shut up. He did not want him to drag up the Medic’s feelings, the pain he was suffering over his lover. It was not right and it was not fair. Still, the Engineer did not know, but that did not dismiss how hurtful it would be.

“The Heavy…was killed…down the street,” the Medic stated, stiffening his body.

Andrew pulled off his helmet as he frowned. He felt terrible for Medic, but proud of him in a strange way. He overcame all of those emotions for the moment he was needed. They needed him to be strong, and so he was.

“Damn…I uh…” the Engineer noted what Andrew did and pulled his own hat off.

He shifted it in his hands awkwardly. Unlike the Sniper, he seemed to get right away that this was sad news, not just sad for losing a teammate, but personal to the Medic. He pressed his cap to his chest.

“I’m awful sorry, partner,” Engineer said, fidgeting a little bit.

“Well, let’s move on then,” the Medic pushed the front of his hair back. The Sniper cleared his throat, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Medic frowned, “I am not going back to base with that schweinhund!”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Engineer put his helmet back on his head and picked up his shotgun. Andrew tensed, not sure what was about to happen.

“Look Medic,” the RED Sniper started, “I’m sorry I-” He was cut off by the blast that shattered his skull and left him without the top half of his head.

The Engineer gave the Medic a crooked Texan-style smile, “I said don’t worry about it.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

“What?” the moment Forbes respawned, he felt only shock.

He was alive. He was bloody fucking alive. And he did not know why.

He looked around to see that he was not alone, with several men in suit jackets. Some of them looked like Spies. But some of them were unmasked. He was not sure a Spy could walk around without a mask on.

“Where am I? What happened?” he exclaimed.

“Relax, Mr. Forbes,” a young American man spoke calmly, “You’re in the Global Respawn Center in New York.”

“New York?” he felt stumped, “Global Respawn Center? You must be joking!”

“Not joking at all, Mr. Forbes,” the man went on. The others were stock still and quiet.

“What…what ha- where did- how did I get here?” he stammered over the question he wanted to ask.

“This is the _Global Respawn Center_ , Mr. Forbes,” the man said irritably, “You are a handler. Handers’ scans are put on a Global Respawn in case of such situations as the one you got yourself into. Unfortunately for you, you managed to kill six other mercenaries. Congratulations.” There was a thick monotone sarcasm in the man’s voice.

“I…you…what?” Forbes stammered.

“BLU Soldier, Henry Balwin, dead,” the man stated, tossing a small file on the table. It was open so that Forbes could see a picture and identify which Soldier he was talking about.

“I didn’t- this wasn’t-” he stammered, staring at the picture with disbelief. He was on some sort of respawn, but they were not.

“BLU Engineer, Patrick McDrewery, dead,” the man went on, throwing another file down, “BLU Engineer, Calvin Hemlocke, dead.” One after another, files laid open with the pictures showing Forbes their faces. “BLU Demoman, Donnovan McCrowley, dead. BLU Heavy, Nikita Vasiliev, dead. BLU Medic, Frederickn Krüger, dead.”

“I didn’t- no!” Forbes shook himself. He could not believe what the man was telling him. “That can’t be!”

The Medic was dead? Both Engineers were dead? A Heavy, of all people, was dead? And the Medic? He would give his life for the Medic, just from the sheer amount of times the man gave his life for him.

He stared down at the pictures, feeling forlorn and weary. He could not believe what had happened. He could not believe what he was seeing. He would not believe them unless he saw it with his own eyes. But, if he thought back, he did see it with his own eyes. He saw the carnage in the ambush. He saw the bullet wounds, heard the cries for help, heard himself cry out for the Medic, who was too wounded to come to his aid. They had all fallen and he was the only one to come back.

“Anything to say for yourself?” the man asked.

Forbes pulled a gun out of his pocket and shot himself in the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forbes is on the Global Respawn, he'll be back. He won't be able to escape what he has accidentally done. Hugh did not even know there would be an ambush waiting for them. What kind of assassins did Dooley freaking hire? This was supposed to be a sneaky mission. Get in and get out. How did they end up tearing up the city? I am confused myself.  
> I have been laying out a lot of hints for a side story I am working on for you guys. I hope you like the idea. I will not give it away just yet. I wanna finish this story before I hype anything in particular. In the next few chapters, you might get an idea of the direction I am going to go with the sequel. Maybe.  
> Hugh has this shit figured out and doesn't want anything to do with it anymore.


	35. It's Not Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh heads into the city to find Andrew and check on Glenn's family. A sweet goodbye to his long-time friend.  
> Andrew has had enough of Engineer's bullshit, but that does not mean he does not care.

Hugh was tired, but attentive to the road. He wanted a coffee, but knew that would have to wait. Everything would have to wait for Andrew.

If he was right about Maxwell’s response, then he would have brought Andrew someplace safe. Given the BLU Sniper was in on the ambush, having carried the Soldier to the RED base himself, Maxwell would have realized that it was not safe at BLU. In normal circumstances, he would have assumed that the man just killed Andrew to get the trouble out of his hands. But, these were not usual circumstances, and nothing lined up nicely like it should.

He trusted his instincts, and so he ended up back in the city, driving towards the hospital. He regretted the sight, seeing several blocks torn up, with some dead bodies littered about. His eyes took in the view with a pressure that forced down his panic, searching feverishly for a sign of a Soldier. Andrew had to be here; worse, Glenn and Melisa had to be here.

He stopped just outside of the hospital. Realizing with panic in his mind that he might well lose his friend, he abandoned his car there, rushing into the hospital. It was locked, but that was never an issue for a Spy with a few tricks. Besides the whole front door was made of glass and had been shattered to bits, all it took was some carefully removed glass and he could slip right in unharmed.

He rushed through the empty part of the hospital to where everybody was hiding. They were immediately frightened by him, so he turned on his invis watch. He had no time to be explaining himself. He had no time to deal with any of their bullshit or fears. He had to find Glenn and Melisa. He had to make sure Esperanza was doing alright.

“Just don’t panic,” he told himself aloud.

It was likely that Glenn got involved in the fighting, but it was very likely that Melisa and Esperanza stayed out of it. All the same, he did not want to lose his best friend. He would not give up searching if he did not find Glenn at the hospital.

When he arrived where he had last seen Esperanza, he was relieved to find her safe. She was still hooked up to the machines, breathing softly in her sleep. She was alright, nobody had touched her.

His invis watched decloaked as he stared at the baby for a moment. He had to laugh as he thought about his predicament, he never thought he would become so concerned for somebody so small. He had given up on toddlers long ago, and now here he was caring too much about Glenn’s daughter.

“Hey Spy!” Glenn exclaimed, a bit perkier than Hugh had expected.

He felt tears bite his eyes as he flung his arms around Glenn. Not a usual greeting or a necessarily dignified one, but he was too relieved to see the Sniper alive. After seeing the carnage outside, he had too many words to say at once to even begin speaking. He settled for silence instead.

“Spy?” the Sniper patted his back hesitantly.

Hugh pulled away with a sigh, “The…everything outside…I thought you…might have…” He could not say it, only showing in his expression that he had been worried.

Glenn smiled, “Don’t worry about me, mate.” There was something smug about the look on his horse-face.

“H-Jacques!” a familiar American voice caught his attention.

His eyes moved to Andrew and relief hit him. As he had thought, the Medic had brought him here, and was standing just behind him. Melisa stood beside Andrew, a cup of something hot in her hand. She offered an awkward smile, but the paleness and fear in her face told him everything he needed to know about her predicament.

“We stomped a bunch of no good assassins!” Andrew slammed a fist into his hand.

“Uh…uh huh?” Hugh could not really process this well, he was fighting back tears of relief at the moment.

“The hospital has been kinda safe though,” Glenn shrugged, “Fighting died down about twenty minutes ago. These assholes came stomping in looking for trouble.”

“We found you, didn’t we?” Andrew asked, with a playful smirk. Hugh had to smile at that somewhat witty remark.

“Well…I’m glad you’re here though,” Melisa stated. The hand she held her drink with was a little shaky.

Hugh nodded to her, “Heartwarming.”

There was a long silence. Hugh was studying the RED Medic a bit though. The man was completely out of place, but he stood there silently. He did not fidget, he did not groan, he did not even acknowledge the BLU Spy’s presence. He simply stood there, his eyes distant and glazed. There was something sad about that look on a man with such proud posture.

“I’m thinking this bloke’s gonna need a ride,” Glenn threw a thumb at the Medic, as everybody’s attention turned to him. The German gave them a warning glare, his gaze grazing over each of them, before turning back to the nothing he was staring at. “Where’d you park your car?” Glenn asked.

“Out front,” he stated, pausing for thought. He needed to wrap some things up if he was going to get Andrew out of here.

He was, after all, completely fed up. Mann Co was a disgrace. They had fooled him and countless others. Who knew how many men were out there, never knowing the truth about their work, trapped in this scheme that used their faces for its own profit. And all the while, it was taking their sanity. It had taken so much of Andrew’s mind, that all Hugh wanted was to bring Andrew back to something more peaceful, something he could enjoy.

He would miss work. It had become more of a hobby and a pleasure to him over the years. Sticking with what you knew was something important in Spy work. But while he knew Spy work, he also knew love. He had to put one thing first, and he chose Andrew. That was, of course, aside from the other man who ever gave a shit about him.

He turned to Glenn, “I need to talk to you about something. Please, come with me so I can move my car.”

Glenn hesitated, before he finally shrugged, “Okay.”

They made their way through the hospital in silence. This time, nobody was afraid of the Spy, since he was walking _out_ of the hospital, not as an intruder charging in like he was going to shoot somebody. Glenn said nothing about the quiet, even as they rode an elevator down to the first floor. Hugh would have taken the stairs again, if he were not so tired after running.

They came out to the car and Hugh decided to strike up the conversation, “I take it you have plans with Mann Co Productions from here?”

Glenn grunted in response. He did not really need to say much. He probably did not want to talk about work, with Melisa and the baby on his mind.

“I don’t,” he stated.

“What?” was the simple, dumbfounded response.

“I’m…I’m through,” he paused to face the Sniper squarely. He took a deep breath, wishing he had a smoke. He was still coming down from his adrenaline high, which had sent him through the hospital.

“Mate, you can’t just up and leave!” Glenn exclaimed.

“Papers won’t stop me,” Hugh said, with a gingerly sweeping motion of his hand.

“Papers? Fuck papers. What about your friends?” Glenn retorted angrily.

Hugh winced at that. He knew this would probably come to this. It would be unfair to leave Glenn but he had no choice if he was going to get himself and Andrew out.

“You were my only friend,” he told the man. Why did that feel so heavy? He wondered on it, biting back tears as his heart sank with a feeling of mourning and regret.

“I…we…I’m gonna be stuck there! And nobody there gets me like you do! How much longer can I take if you’re not there with me?” Glenn pleaded. His eyes were already glistening. He knew what this was already.

“I cannot promise that we’ll see each other soon,” Hugh offered his hand, “But…we will see each other. And…I will be back to help take care of Esperanza. I won’t let you fuck her up like an imbecile with your idiotic nonsense of backwoods living, or something like that.”

Glenn started to chuckle softly as he took the hand offered to him. Hugh was prepared to shake his hand, he was not prepared to be pulled into a very tight embrace. Glenn was laughing and sobbing now, switching between the two intermittently.

Why did this feel so heavy? Why did this hurt so much? His heart formed pain in his throat, and his eyes watered. He clenched the back of Glenn’s jacket, wishing he could just bring Glenn with him. They were best friends for so long, and they would be without that companionship, a void that could only be filled by their significant others.

“This is goodbye,” Hugh spoke softly in Glenn’s ear, “But…not forever. I am a man of my word, and I will sneak back into your life somehow.”

Glenn finally, but slowly, pulled away from the embrace. They were left to look at each other’s teary-eyed red faces. They started chuckling at each other for how silly they looked.

“You always do,” Glenn said, in a low tone.

Hugh hesitated, reaching for his balaclava to pull it up. Glenn watched, mystified, as he pulled it up and off of his head. He offered a smile, hoping to look kind, despite his unpresentable appearance.

“I need time for Mann Co to forget me,” Hugh explained as he tucked the balaclava away. He had no intention of ever wearing it again.

“Mann Co doesn’t forget, mate,” Glenn pointed out. His eyes were darting all around Hugh’s face, as if to take in all of the details.

“Just…a bit of time,” Hugh shrugged, with a smile.

“Right…right…” Glenn shifted uneasily, turning his eyes to his toes.

Hugh remembered something in his trunk and hurried to the car, “I have something. It is not much in the grand scheme of things, but it should tide you over.” He opened the trunk and dug between the suitcases and luggage to pull out a briefcase. The old thing was a retired relic of his old days working in Europe. He had used it for a business he worked for, for a short time, one which had bored him to death. Despite the boringness of the job, he had grown attached to the briefcase.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn watched as his friend placed the briefcase in his hands. It was an old ruddy thing, with worn down edges and what seemed to be the oldest leather he knew. This thing must have been from the thirties.

He gave an awkward smile, feigning gratitude, “Thanks.”

Spy gave him a _you-fucked-up_ kind of look and motioned to his hands, “Open the briefcase, you idiot.”

Glenn nodded as he opened it, astonished to see stacks of US hundred dollar bills inside. This was a lot of money, a lot more than he could accept. He tried to hand it back but the Spy would not have it.

“You need it,” he said simply, “Just don’t go off spending it like a moron. Invest it in a bank account. Save it for an emergency. Pay it to the doctors for Esperanza.”

Glenn smiled, feeling a new set of tears brimming in his eyes, “I can’t…you’re gonna make me cry.”

The Spy sighed, “I suppose crying is a good look on you.” He rolled his eyes, his ever haughty attitude ever-present.

Glenn closed the briefcase, still fighting back the tears. His friend was leaving him behind. His friend was going off to live the last years of his life. His friend just gave him more money than he knew what to do with.

“Take care of those girls,” Spy interrupted his thoughts.

“Yea,” Glenn sniffed, “Yea, I will.”

“What is it now?” the Spy inquired.

“What?” Glenn asked defensively. The Spy’s question had felt jarring to the current situation, after all.

“More tears? Is a little money really that big? Or will you miss me that much?” there was a hint of tease in the tone and the expression. Glenn wanted to remember that expression and embed it in his mind as one of the few expressions he knew of the Spy.

“Yea…yea I’m gonna miss ya,” Glenn smiled, though new tears were streaking down his face, “And I don’t even know your name.” He rubbed his face with the back of his hand and sleeve. “Just some alias called Jacques,” he sniffled some more.

“It’s Hugh,” Spy stated.

“What?” his arm dropped suddenly to look the Spy in the face.

The Spy smiled back, “My name is Hugh Fournier.”

Glenn felt astonished, trapped where he stood. This could be just another alias, a trick to keep him satisfied but unknowing. Maybe it was better if he never knew, but maybe the Spy would use the name and he could be found again. So he gave the Spy a smile and a solid nod.

“I won’t tell anybody,” Glenn took a deep breath.

“Tell Esperanza,” Spy replied sternly.

“What?” it seemed like an odd request, given that she was just a newborn.

“If I am not back in time for her to speak, tell her about her godfather,” Spy explained, “Hugh Fournier from France. Apparently the only man who can be friends with her father.”

Glenn started chuckling at that, “Maybe I’ll go make some new friends.”

Hugh rolled his eyes, “You do that.”

Glenn looked down at the briefcase in his hands. It was astonishing to him. To think that the Spy had such graciousness and charity in his heart as to give him this money. This had to be a life savings. That part hit him and he began to panic.

“This seems like an awful lot though, mate,” he started.

Hugh raised a hand to silence him, “I will be fine. I have plenty more. And I have my resources.”

Glen chuckled again and shook his head, “You’re a real character, Spy.”

“Hugh, please,” he replied.

“Right…Hugh…ain’t gonna get used to that,” Glenn replied.

“Now…” the Spy brushed his hands on his slacks, “If we are all done with the awkward hugging and goodbyes, you should go to Melisa. I need to fetch Andrew.”

“Right…” Glenn turned and they walked together.

They were silent once again, slowly adjusting to the dim of the noise around them. It was always nice to have Spy around, even when he was annoying. There was something about his companionship that was akin to animals, a pal who was just there when you did not necessarily need him to be. So when they came back to the hallway outside of Esperanza’s room, his heart sank again when they part ways.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the Spy approached the Soldier. He pulled the helmet off of the shorter man to talk to him. He turned his full attention to Melisa and hugged her, ignoring her questions about the briefcase and his appearance.

“G-Glenn…honey? I’m scared!” she said breathily.

He pulled away to look at her, “What? What happened?”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Andrew stood beside Melisa, gazing in at the helpless little child while they waited for the Sniper and the Spy to return from the vehicle. She truly was an amazing sight to behold. She was so helpless in those soft blankets, just trying to survive the day. But, she seemed so strong with how bravely she strove through the pain.

“Isn’t she precious?” Melisa breathed.

“Gorgeous,” Andrew agreed with a smile.

“Yes, pretty,” the Medic said behind them.

“What’d I miss?” the familiar Texan accent was followed by the Engineer’s arrival. He was brushing damp hands against the legs of his overalls.

“Spy is here,” Andrew stated.

“Not much else has happened,” Melisa replied, with a shrug.

“Listen uh…” the Engineer said, a bit shy in tone, “Soldier? Could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

“Not falling for it, Engie!” Andrew spat. He braced himself, holding onto his senses. He could not let the little Texan talk him into a moment alone with him yet again.

“I…I j…I just…” the Engineer stammered, unable to formulate his words.

“Just go down the hall,” Melisa motioned, “I’ll be right over here.”

He barely realized what he was doing when he gave the woman a curt nod. Why had he done that? He felt only regret as he strode down the hall, feeling like this was something he should not do. They were just out of Melisa’s earshot, but with how Medics were, the man probably could still hear them.

He planted his boots on a spot in the middle of a hallway. He had to stand his ground, lest the Engineer tried anything. If he did, Andrew would be ready for it.

“I just wanna say…I…I’m sorry,” the Engineer said, with a heartfelt tone that pulled at Andrew’s strings.

No, he refused to give in. He would not give the Engineer even a little wiggle room in this issue. He would not let the man get him wrapped up in something. He had to be stubborn about his position.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the smaller man shifted his helmet in his hands, “I didn’t mean for any of this to go sour. I just wanted to protect you. I saw you in a bad situation…one that only I could see…and I had to do something. I mean, I couldn’t just…and I…I don’t know.” His head sank, his bleary eyes gazing at the floor. “I care about you, Sol.”

Andrew sighed and put a hand on the Engineer’s shoulder, “I care about you, Engie.” That caused the man’s head to pop up so fast that he did not have time to stop his tears from falling. “I just…I care about you as my brother,” Andrew went on, “I had to kill a lot of brothers once. They betrayed me. They betrayed my country. And in a war, you do what you must, or it is over for everyone. I don’t wanna kill ya. But…” He patted the Engineer’s shoulder before raising his other hand to point at the Engineer’s face. “You so much as threaten somebody I care about again, and I _will_ turn your intestines inside out and feed you your own toes!”

The Engineer gave him the most frightened and disbelieving look. Andrew left him with that for the moment, heading back towards Melisa. He would have nothing more to do with it.

“You’re going back to Mann Co, aren’t you?” the Engineer asked, with a sad tone.

“I guess I am, Engie,” was his response.

He turned his head back towards the Engineer just in time to see what looked like blue mist. He was surprised and bewildered, unsure of which Spy it was, since they were not yet in full view. He was sure it was not Hugh, Hugh was mostly dressed down to civilian clothes. And besides, this one was raising a balisong over the Engineer’s back.

“Engie no!” Andrew barked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Engineer! Behind you!  
> There are still traitors among them.
> 
> I have decided to make some side stories into sequels instead. They happen before the planned sequel anyways. They should fill in the gap better if I place them in between this story and the next. So the next story is going to center around a different set of mercenaries. I don't think you'll expect it.
> 
> I feel worried that it has gotten quiet. I have not heard anything since the most recent turn of events. I don't know how this is going from a reader's perspective.


	36. Everything is Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is yet another traitor among the teams.  
> Hugh and Andrew are going to start a new adventure, peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this chapter took so long. I had an incident at work where I had finished it, panicked and accidentally dumped it on the work computer. How? I dunno.  
> Anyways, I have had some divided attention and some stress induced time down. I'm back to my normal writing habits and the next chapter will not take so long.

The Engineer turned, alarmed by the Soldier’s response. He moved just in time to avoid the stab the Spy was going for, but the knife did go into his shoulder. He cried out in pain, but moved as quickly as he could to escape.

He looked up with panic. Réne? Why was Réne attacking him? They were partners. They worked together.

“Spy!” Soldier cried out as he charged forward.

Spy said nothing as he side stepped the Soldier, as if to avoid a confrontation. The Soldier was not armed though, so the Engineer watched with confusion as the Spy bided his time, avoiding the Soldier until he could cloak again.

“Engie! Are you okay?” Solly turned to him.

He looked at his shoulder and nodded, “Medic?”

A shriek surprised the three men, and they spun to see Melisa trying to get to her feet, her hands clutching the window frame to the baby room. Over her, two Spies were struggling, Réne and the unnamed RED Spy. The two parried each other several times, before the older Spy managed a trick that put the BLU off balance, sending his head right into the hard and unbreakable glass.

The RED Spy grabbed the BLU, pulling him away from the woman. She cringed, bunching up in the fetal position with terror. Tears were building up in her eyes.

“My apologies,” the RED Spy said, calmly holding the BLU, who struggled against him. He acted as if it was all a small inconvenience for them.

Suddenly, Dooley’s eyes were drawn to the two who had arrived with the RED Spy taking care of the situation: Maurice and the BLU Scout. He winced when he remembered the other BLU Scout, dead in the trunk of Maurice’s car. Of course, nothing had yet to explain what was going on with Réne or how they had arrived on time to stop him.

Suddenly, Réne flung his head back, surprising and disarming the RED Spy’s wits. He flailed, moving quickly while the other man was stunned, in an attempt to escape. The other RED Spy was too stunned though.

“Some assistance please!” the RED Spy cried out in a panic.

Dooley was all too willing to comply, charging in to help his teammate. He might have had some hesitation about disarming, let alone hurting Réne, but the man was going to literally stab him in the back. He was getting what was coming to him. He heard the Medic behind him, charging in to help as well. The two of them made overwhelming and subduing Réne simple for the RED Spy. Once Réne was down on the ground though, he turned to Maurice.

He spoke in French. That put Dooley off, frustrating him to no end. What was worse was that Maurice responded in kind, fully understanding the language. Then the Medic was speaking French too, talking like it was used just as often as English. He would have liked to be wearing his helmet so he could throw it at the ground, but it was laying on the ground back where he had dropped it.

“So uh…what’s going on?” the BLU Scout was the one to interrupt their foreign language conversation.

“I demand an explanation!” the Soldier stepped towards them, demanding their attention fully.

The Spies shared looks for a minute. Réne was whispering something in French, or maybe it was Italian, Dooley was not sure. He watched as the always friendly Italian turned into a dreadfully angry man. All of his hate seemed to direct at the BLU Spy, one hand clenched and shaking with the desire to attack him for the whispered words.

“If that is that,” the RED Spy switched to English, “Let’s be off.”

“Where are you going with him?” the Soldier demanded.

The RED Spy paused. There was tension when he locked eyes with the Soldier. The Soldier’s body seemed to tense up, like he wanted to punch the Spy in the face. Maybe he really did want to break the man’s teeth, Dooley was not sure. But all the while, the RED Spy could not have looked more out of place than this moment, standing in a confrontation rather than walking out of it.

“As it stands,” the RED Spy paused, turning his eyes to Dooley.

Dooley tensed, feeling those cold eyes on him. Those eyes were like daggers piercing at him. He could feel the others’ eyes coming to him too. They all turned to look at him, even Réne. They all turned to him, probably remembering that he too betrayed them.

He held his stance firmly. With his grip on Réne’s arm, he stayed firmly in place. He was their ally. He would never betray them again. He hoped they understood that, as he held tightly to the new enemy.

“Probably back to base for questioning,” the RED Spy finally finished turning his eyes away from the Engineer.

Dooley relaxed, taking a careful breath. He dared not let it on though. He would not let on just how scared he was that a Spy might take him in for questioning again. He would not let them see him intimidated, lest they took that cowardice for a sign that he was a traitor.

“We’ll take care of this,” Maurizio stepped forward to take the arm from Dooley. The other RED Spy slipped in in where the Medic had been helping restrain the BLU Spy. The others backed up.

Dooley graciously gave up his position restraining Réne. He did not want to be a part of this anyways. He wanted to forget he was ever a part of this. He wanted to get away from all of this killing and actually return to the safety of the respawn.

“Maurizio…no…” Dooley barely heard the whisper.

He looked to see the most pained expression on Réne’s face. It hurt Dooley on the inside to see that look. It looked how he felt about protecting the Soldier. It was the look of a man heartbroken about losing the understanding of the love he had sworn to protect. All of this had probably been to protect Maurizio, but Maurizio would never know that.

“And if you try anything,” Drake stepped forward, aiming his baby face blaster at Réne’s head.

Réne looked up at the younger man, surprised by the Scout’s reaction. He stared at him, bewildered by the teammate’s response. He just seemed to be right on Maurizio’s side. There was no questioning it from Réne.

 

*********************************************************************

 

After recounting what had happened, with brief interruptions from Andrew, Melisa seemed to feel better. Hugh watched the scene as Glenn comforted her, pulling her into his arms. He stroked her hair and gently cooed to her, trying to make her relax. She must have been very spooked to be so shaky. Granted, she was unused to men sneaking up on her and trying to kill her.

“Spy?” Andrew interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to the Soldier with a soft smile. He felt the shorter man’s eyes studying him from head to foot. What it meant, he was not entirely sure.

“I want to talk,” Andrew gestured in a vague manner, “You and me…alone…in private.”

“Yes, I caught the gist of that,” Hugh nodded and put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, directing him away.

They moved through the halls side by side. There were so many people around now, bustling around to get the hospital back to its normal working state, that it was difficult to find someplace private. Hugh settled for walking and talking.

“I wanted to talk to you too,” Hugh told him, “I packed our things and put them in my car.”

Andrew was silent for a little while, “Can I just ask for an explanation on this one?”

Hugh nodded, “I won’t be _Spy_ anymore. You won’t be a Soldier anymore. I-”

Andrew cut him off, “We’re abandoning our team?”

“I…” Hugh paused to think about that. Andrew was so proud of leaving no man behind, and never betraying his team. “I understand if you disagree,” Hugh told him, “But, everything considered, they don’t need us.”

“That doesn’t mean we abandon them,” Andrew said, firmly, “You know how I feel about that.”

“I know,” Hugh nodded again, “I do know. But…there is a point where every soldier retires, no?”

Andrew was silent for a little while. He eyed the man out of the corner of his eye. He was curious about his reaction to this, but there was no evident reaction yet. He was just quiet, perhaps pondering what the meant, and what that meant for Andrew.

“Besides, I’m tired,” Hugh pushed the front of his hair back, “I’m old and I’m tired. I don’t want to be this anymore. I want…I want a little peace for myself. Just a little piece of a quiet life. Is that so much to ask at this age?”

Andrew turned his head to look at him. They continued walking a while in silence, but Andrew was staring at him. He was using his peripheral vision to study Andrew, as he dared not take his eyes off of the hallways ahead of them.

“You’ve noticed that you are not who you were five years ago, haven’t you?” Hugh finally asked him.

“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, a bit gruffly and defiantly.

“Over the past years, things have changed,” Hugh said, deciding to explain this slowly.

“Things always change,” Andrew argued, “No matter where you are. Only difference for us is that we keep looking like we can still live, when we should have died out years ago.”

“That is true,” Hugh said, choosing a more clip pace to speak at. It made his feet move a bit faster. Having to walk faster made Andrew turn his attention to where they were going. “But, the truth is that you were having some small problems,” Hugh explained, “You were having some visions, maybe some black outs and such. But now? You have a black out almost every single battle. And visions have sent you into hysterics more than once in the past week. Don’t think I have not noticed.”

Andrew lowered his face a bit. He looked like he was ashamed. That was not Hugh’s intention at all.

Hugh decided to fill in the blank for him, “The only link that I can think of is-”

“Age,” Andrew said gruffly.

“N-no,” Hugh shook his head.

“I’m plenty old enough to be suffering these issues,” Andrew argued.

“No, Andrew,” Hugh argued, trying to get him to stop before he diverted the entire conversation, “I was going to say that it has to do with respawn. What else could it be?”

“Age,” Andrew pressed.

“Your age didn’t create any problems before,” Hugh said curtly.

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t,” Andrew said, with frustration growing in his tone.

Hugh shook his head. What a turn of topic. Why was Andrew so convinced that his age had to do with this?

“Andrew, at the rate that you have increased in your problems, it cannot be age,” he assured him, “Respawn, however, can create a great deal of problems if it starts putting pressure in the right place.”

“What do _you_ suggestion?” Andrew asked, sounding grumpy about the discussion.

Hugh stopped in his tracks and grabbed Andrew’s shoulders, forcing him to turn. He faced the man squarely and studied his face. He seemed so worn down, frustrated, conflicted, and upset all at once. There was too much there for Hugh to untangle it all. He sighed and decided to just hug him, pulling him into a tight and loving embrace.

Andrew responded by wrapping his thick arms around Hugh’s middle. They stood like this for a while. Andrew pressed his face against Hugh’s chest, breathing softly. Hugh took the time to think on what he would say next, hoping to think of something better to convince Andrew of the problem of respawn.

“Would you consider a vacation with me?” Hugh spoke softly.

“Always,” Andrew nodded against his shirt.

“Then consider this a much needed vacation,” Hugh explained, “If it doesn’t work out like we want, we’ll come back to work.” He was bluffing so hard here. He had no intention to come back, so he would have to think of something else in the future, because he had no intention of letting Andrew return either. “How does that sound?”

Andrew grunted, but nodded in response, “Alright.”

Andrew took his hand and followed him out to the car. There was a wave of relief that swept over Hugh, once they were on the road. They had their things in the back of the car. Andrew was next to him. They had the entire world at their fingers, and all the time they wanted to do what they pleased. And from now on, he would not hide their relationship.

At that thought, he pulled over and pulled off his seatbelt. Andrew opened his mouth to ask him, but Hugh had already climbed over the center console to kiss him. His hands cupped the man’s face, feeling the heat of embarrassment and the thrum of excitement in his blood.

Satisfied, he returned to his seat and buckled his belt. A glance to the passenger seat revealed that Andrew’s face was completely red. A smug smirk crossed his face as he put the car into gear again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of the wind down chapters. It will be mostly closure from here. Once I post the last chapter, I will post the first chapter of the sequel. I have yet to come up with a name for it yet though.  
> There was a partial struggle for this chapter, because it needed to line up with a chapter in the sequel. Because the sequel starts BEFORE this one ends.  
> The sequel will star Antoine, Drake, Maurizio and Bleu. There may be a few throw ins of other characters here and there, but they will be the main focus of the story.


	37. I am Beside You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is ending, but the characters still have people by their sides.

Glenn did not find the Spy anywhere. He had vanished without saying a word. Had the hug truly been their goodbye?

He tried outside, but found that the car was gone. He had left, driven off with his Soldier. Now the two of them might never be seen again, if the Spy was to be taken at his word. Of course, Sniper would not doubt him if he intended to come back and pester them.

When he eventually returned to Melisa, he was feeling tired and drained. He wanted to go lay down, but he could not bring himself to take the elevators one more time. He plopped down on one of the chairs, settled his hat down low and dozed off. He wanted to forget for a moment that he was in a busy bustling hospital.

 

When Glenn woke, he found Melisa by the baby. She had her hand in the box, gently stroking her tummy and face with the affection that only a mother could have. He wanted to treasure the feeling of that moment. Perhaps it would all be worth it if this was what their life promised them.

He could go a lifetime of working for the cruddy company if this was the kind of happiness he would get to witness. He would promise his soul to Mann Co, if he could just hold onto this.

He had a family now. Little Esperanza laid in the box, barely holding on to the world around her. Her mother gently stroked her with such affection in her movements and her eyes that it made Glenn tear up. He wanted this to last a lifetime, just the three of them in this moment of bliss.

He would go back to that rugged base. He would tolerate those men, with whom he rarely liked socializing. He would pretend that everything would be okay without Spy around. He would just keep going on, for Esperanza and Melisa.

They would see hard times, he was sure. They would face many problems. So long as those problems did not involve anymore assassins or health problems, then he would be satisfied with facing them with Melisa by his side.

Melisa suddenly turned and did a double take, “Glenn? What’s wrong?” She had such concern in her eyes that he had to smile.

“Nothing,” he smiled at her, “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just happy. Happy tears on my face.”

She smiled back at him and waved him over. He strolled closer to get a better look at their new baby. So precious and small, Esperanza looked like she was barely holding on. But, now her eyes were open, big green eyes with small flecks of brown in them. They were wide and amazing, and Glenn could not believe that she was looking back at him. He felt like he had lost himself into a world in those eyes.

 

Glenn was walking out to the camper with Melisa, when she turned to him, “So, everything’s gonna be pretty different, isn’t it?”

He glanced at her, then nodded, “Yea, I think so.”

She breathed a sigh, “Are you going to be okay?”

He hesitated with uncertainty. He was not sure why she would ask that. He had her and Esperanza. How could things not be okay?

“Spy’s been your strongest support on the battlefield and at base,” she said, rubbing his arm.

He gave her a smile, “I know. And…yea, I think that I will have to get used to him not being around.”

She chuckled, “Maybe it’s time to make some new friends?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” he jested playfully.

“But, in all seriousness,” she cut the chuckling, “You’re going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be alright, Mel,” he nodded.

“You’re not going to come crying to me like a baby on the weekends?” she asked, with a pleading tone.

“Maybe I’ll need you the most from now on,” he told her, making eye contact with her on occasion.

She was quiet for a minute. Then, she nodded, “I’m here for you Glenn. Just don’t save it until you explode. Okay? Don’t give me one huge blast of emotion and confusion, like I know you’ll do.”

“I’ll do my best,” he mumbled.

“Come on, Glenn,” she put her hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her, but she was not convinced. “I’m serious,” she told him, “I’m here for you. On the phone. On the weekends. I’m here.”

“Thank you, Mel,” he snaked his arm under her arm, pulling her close.

“Remember, I’m here,” she leaned into his embrace.

“I know,” he chuckled, “I have you with me.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

“I reckon you want a ride back to base, right?” Dooley asked, as the RED Medic bucked his belt. He forced a chuckle, wanting to make light of the tension in the air.

He settled back in his seat with a huff. The man turned his head up, staring through the circle lenses at the ceiling of the car. He looked like he had fallen in a daze, like there was something thrilling about the truck’s interior color.

“Medic?” he interrupted the man’s thoughts as he put the vehicle in reverse.

“If I’m completely honest,” Maxwell finally looked at him, “I want to be anywhere but there. I want to go anywhere but there. I don’t care, I just don’t want to go back there.”

Dooley studied the man, keeping the brake pedal on the floor. He suddenly looked forlorn and lost. It looked like the world had suddenly been lost to him. Everything had collapsed beneath him, and he was left here with this dead look in his eyes.

Dooley put the truck in park and turned the ignition off. He paused to rub a hand over his scalp, thinking about what had happened. Everything was pretty much turned on its head for everybody. Dooley was not sure he could even go back, so he was planning on dumping the Medic off at the base and leaving. He could not get caught up with Mann Co ever again, he had to get his shit and leave.

With that, he would never see the BLU Soldier ever again. He had no chance of trying to be next to him as a friend ever again, because he would be long gone. He would not even know if the man would miss him.

But, the Medic had lost his love entirely. He had lost the man he cared about most, something Dooley could not imagine in the slightest, given that he knew that the Soldier was still alive and well. He could rest easy, even halfway across the world from him, knowing that Soldier was alive.

Medic pushed the front of his hair back, “I can’t go back there…to that…nonsense…that…emptiness.” He sighed and leaned his head back against the seat.

“I cannot go back there, partner,” Dooley responded, hoping to show him some form of relativity. He saw the other man turn his head to look at him. “After everything…more than I can explain at the moment…I cannot go back there,” he explained, “Not after what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done?” the Medic muttered, “Where will you go then? What will you do now?”

“Don’t be concerned for me,” Dooley assured him, “What are _you_ going to do if you aren’t going back to base? Mann Co is going to come after you. One way or another, you have to figure something out.”

“I…I don’t know,” Medic sighed, brushing back the front of his hair.

“You need to figure that out, partner,” Dooley said, as he started the car up, “You don’t want to get caught in the wrong situation.”

“What will you do then?” Medic asked again.

“Don’t worry about it, partner,” Dooley pressed, putting the vehicle into gear.

“Well, if I stay behind to think about what I’ll do, there won’t be much chance getting away next time,” Medic insisted, “I might as well leave now and figure out what I am doing along the way.”

Dooley hesitated with uncertainty. It was one more problem if he brought the Medic along. It was one more person to worry about, in regards of who to trust and whether the man would get into trouble or not. He was not sure he was up to seeing that through, not for the Medic.

For the Soldier, he was willing to put down his life. He was willing to do a lot for that man. This was not that man though, and he was not willing to do much of anything for the German.

“Just…just give me a ride to the next state and I’ll get out of your hair,” Medic said, adding a forced chuckle, “If you had any hair.”

Dooley chuckled at that, rubbing a hand over his shaved scalp. He shook his head and backed the truck out of the parking space. They pulled out of the parking lot and started towards the base.

“Are you going back to base?” the Medic asked, with worry in his voice.

“I have to pick up some things first,” he stated, “Then I’ll be off.”

“Then I will do the same,” the Medic nodded.

They fell silent. Along the curving mountain roads, they simply watched the scenery pass them by. Both of them had so much to regret and so much they wanted to change. There was so much Dooley wanted so badly to go back and try to fix things, patch everything up with the BLU Soldier, but he knew it would be for naught. There was no point in going back to the life of mercenary work for Mann Co Productions’ show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the last few chapters are taking so long to write. I have never been good with endings, so trying to wrap everything up.


	38. The End of This Fic, But Not of This Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of this fic.  
> It's not the end of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn will be rather busy getting acquainted with the new Spy. Hugh and Andrew return from vacation for a little action. Andrew's regression has brought forth a lot of worry, and Pauling's has an idea.

January 2006

Sniper lounged in the recreational room, his hat turned down. He did his best to look disinterested. He did his best to fool the man coming in. He was sure that it would do him no good to look interesting to this new guy.

He had to push the brim up eventually, shooting the masked man a nasty glare. Too bad too, the friendly smile looked genuine, even if it was all fake. He was probably just trying to be friendly, and Glenn was just here being an ass.

Still, he kept his distance. He would not let the Spy draw him in in any way. After all, they knew nothing about him. Having this new guy thrown in felt worse than any of the new mercenaries. Of course, everything felt new. The old Medic was gone, dead from what he had heard, along with both of the old Engineers and several others. The old Demo he liked having drinks with had up and disappeared, with no trace of his body or whereabouts to speak of.

Both BLU Spies had disappeared on the same day. One saying goodbye to him at the same time as the other tried to kill his woman. Good riddance to the traitor, but he still wished to have his friend back. He still wished Hugh would return.

And for that reason, he glared, as the first new Spy peered underneath his hat with what might otherwise be called an endearing smile. With a mask on, he looked a lot like any other Spy, like his Spy. But this was not his Spy and he knew it. He knew his Spy, after all.

“I take it you are not the social type,” the Spy noted, with a crooked smile. His French accent did not help, putting his similarities to Hugh on the point.

“Mind the personal space and we’ll get along fine,” he growled, putting as much disdain into his tone as he could.

The Spy flinched away, as if injured by the words, “My apologies.”

He released the brim of his hat as he stepped away. Strange that a Spy would so easily and so quickly obey something like that. It bothered Glenn, though perhaps that was just because he had drawn so many similarities to the previous Spy. It did not matter though, so he pushed the details to the back of his mind. He had to worry about getting around this Spy’s mischief, and learning just how he worked.

 

*********************************************************************

 

November 2006

The quiet little town did not stir up much interest. It was a boring little place in the middle of the desert. The heat of the sunlight made it a broiling hot oven. Not a surprise, considering it was supposed to be in the middle of the **desert**.

Hugh glanced over at Andrew, eyeing the old outfit he was wearing. It had been over a year since he put on that old BLU Soldier uniform. He had this little nostalgic feeling about seeing him in that oversized helmet on his head.

Hugh himself was in a living nightmare in his old uniform. Fully dressed in a suit and tie, along with the balaclava, the desert heat was destroying him. Already he felt a thin film of sweat on his skin, which would soon soak into the felt. He kept shifting it around so he could scratch at the itchiness caused by the sweat, a five o’clock shadow of stubble, and being unused to felt that sat flush to his face.

“Stop scratching,” Andrew stated, a bit curtly.

“It’s hot,” he grabbed the paper on the center console, using it as a fan on himself for emphasis.

“I know, but you keep showing skin,” Andrew stated, “You’re a Spy!”

“Right,” Hugh sighed, as they clambered out of the vehicle.

He never thought he would come back to this kind of work. He never thought he would be in this mask again. He especially never thought he would have to wear this mask in the heat of the desert.

Andrew was surprisingly at ease. Despite most of their lives being spent in the cold of the mountains and forests, Andrew was fully dressed in long sleeves, without breaking a sweat. He was not even bothered by how the sunlight was beaming down on his helmet violently.

He looked around the town, trying to remind himself of his old instincts. His instincts from spying were rusty, having spent more than a year resting and just getting acquainted to a normal-ish life. He needed to remember to be paranoid, more so than he had ever been before.

“Let’s go,” Andrew interrupted his thoughts.

He fell into step with the Soldier-turned-civilian-turned-Soldier-again, his eyes glancing around the doors and windows of the town. There were not many people around, but he would not give them the chance to get the jump on them. He would not put it past anybody to place a Sniper in one of those windows, waiting to get the perfect headshot on them. He imagined a Sniper would try to line up a one shot on both of their heads.

“Don’t get too paranoid,” Andrew chuckled, picking up on Hugh’s cues.

“Don’t be so serious,” Hugh responded, his eyes scanning the windows of second story buildings.

They walked in silence for a while, listening to their footsteps and their breaths. The dirt beneath their shoes kicked up as they moved. Everything around them was still and quiet. Even the cat perched on a barrel was silent, watching them with big green eyes, as its soft tail twitched.

The eerie silence was suddenly distilled by the distant hub bub of laughter and voices. It was the bar down the street, and Hugh was keenly aware that this meant there could be trouble close to them. It was equally likely that in a small town such as this, the inn was placed near to the bar.

“I don’t like it,” Andrew growled, as he noted the silence around him.

Hugh did a double take at Andrew’s expression. His eyes were hidden by the oversized helmet, but Hugh could pick up on the little twitches. The way he clenched his teeth told him there was something making him feel tense and out of place. And the way his mouth drew down told him that there was a highly negative bit of stimulus. Worst of all was the twitchy way he looked about.

Normally he would be very relaxed and calm, but this was very different. It was not just him being highly aware of their situation either, as Hugh had grown keen to Andrew’s cues. It was the little things that he did without knowing it, as if to tell the world that what was happening around him was not the same as what he experienced. Hugh had been the only person so far to connect a line to that, in an effort to better support him.

He reached out to pat Andrew’s arm, giving him a reminder that he was there. Whatever was happening would have to wait for comfort. Right now, they were supposed to look the part of mercenaries. They were not supposed to look or act like they knew each other on a personal level. They had to uphold a professional appearance that made them blend into the norm’s assumption of them, based on their appearances.

“Spy!” a voice hissed.

His head whipped around and he reached out to grab Andrew’s jacket. Andrew stopped, his head swiveling, and his helmet almost flying off because of the quick movement. They both turned to see a petite woman in a dark alleyway, a brown trench coat hiding her mostly purple attire, a hat drawn down and aviators covering her eyes. The pathetic attempt at a disguise was laughable, as Spy could see Miss Pauling right through all of that.

“We don’t want your business, hippie!” Andrew warned, shaking a finger at Miss Pauling.

Spy put a hand on his hand, pushing it down. He would take care of whatever was going on with Andrew later. He needed to keep up appearances in front of Miss Pauling, even if it meant waiting on revealing her to the Soldier. Likely he was having a hallucination, thinking that she looked a lot different than she actually did, at the moment.

“Spy, thank God you’re here,” Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“What is the problem?” he asked, a bit disinterested. He put the tone of high airs, a man with other things to do, on his tongue.

“I have a job offer,” she glanced around up and down the street, with obvious paranoia.

“We don’t take jobs from sissies like you,” Andrew growled, probably still unaware that it was a woman underneath the coat.

“Soldier, please,” Spy patted the Soldier’s shoulder, before stepping into the alleyway, “What is it?”

“Not here,” Pauling spoke softly, before heading off down the alleyway.

They followed, keeping at her heels the whole way. Andrew was quiet this time, following Hugh’s lead. He just toddled along quietly at Hugh’s heels.

When Pauling stopped, she beckoned them closer. She was unlocking a door, into which she slipped into cautiously, “Quickly! Don’t be seen!”

Hugh motioned for the other man to go in first, wanting to be the cautious last person to enter. He closed the door behind himself, glad that there was literally nobody around to see them. Still, that would not stop him – nor Miss Pauling – from being cautious of the unseen strangers.

Pauling removed her glasses and hat and Andrew gave the most obnoxious gasp. He rolled his eyes, but really he was holding back a chuckle. Andrew’s reaction was absolutely adorable. Well, to him now at least. Anybody else reacting like that would have been annoying.

“Miss Pauling!” Andrew exclaimed.

She looked at the Soldier, bewildered at his ignorance. She quickly wrote off his misunderstanding for stupidity and turned to the ex-Spy in the room. “Spy, I need your help,” she said, with a fervent tone.

“I’m not exactly in the spying business anymore, Miss Pauling,” he said, as if ready to dismiss the opportunity.

He already knew what she was offering. They would make use of a respawn that had a two hundred mile radius. That was far beyond the capacity of the respawns they had used when they used to work for Mann Co. What was more, they would have access to the age defying technology they had left behind. Not to mention the health benefits they were going to be given.

Andrew was there for different reasons. He had apparently been itching for a fight. Hugh supposed it made sense, the man did tend to get in a few tussles when he could have just walked away. He was not the type to start a fight, but he had been more than eager, as of late, to finish every one he was involved in.

To get to kill again, that was a welcome invitation. To use their old tools, to perform familiar work, would be nice. Retirement was nice for a hot moment, but they both wanted some action. They were both older men, but they were far from dying just yet.

“As of now, Gray Mann has obtained ownership of near twenty eight percent of Mann Co Productions as of today,” she started explaining, “He has planned to disassemble teams at certain bases, ruining the fan base and ruining each of his family members’ financial stability, which forces them to sell to him. If he continues this way, he will soon take over Mann Co.”

“Dear God!” Andrew spoke in disbelief.

“But wait, there is more,” she said, in a slightly dramatic voice.

Hugh’s eyes rolled to Andrew, only to see him react in the most awed way possible. He seemed only more childish and out of his mind than when they left this forsaken company. That gave him second thoughts on the whole idea. He could not risk Andrew’s sanity and wellbeing if it could affect him further. It was bad enough the man had gone through severe changes in the past few years.

“If he gets his way everything will have been for naught,” she explained, “Not only will Mann Co be the piece of crap we’ve had to deal with for…what? A century?”

Her curt explanation and irritated tone told of a bitterness she must have been harboring for decades. What a relief it was to see the woman finally come out of her state of adoration for the Administrator and the company. Still, it would not hurt to hold doubt on her intentions throughout this whole thing. He still had Andrew to worry about, after all.

“I know you guys are trying to stay under the radar, but if I could find you, then they can find you,” Pauling went on, her firm tone directed at Hugh.

“You had help,” he stated curtly.

It was not a question, it was a fact that he knew for sure. She had enough mercenaries at her disposal that there had to be a Spy involved. Though, he was not sure how she managed to get a hold of those mercenaries without being caught by Mann Co, if she was still in hiding.

“And I wonder how,” he said, in a pensive tone.

“I’m under a new contract,” she admitted, “But, it’s only to disassemble what Gray has started. I have a plan.”

“Does this plan involve bread?” Andrew asked.

Hugh gave him a curious look. Bread. Why was it bread with him as of late?

“Uhh…no…” Pauling looked just as confused as Hugh felt. At least Hugh had some context, knowing the Soldier had lost much of his mind in the past few years. “But, if you work for me, I will give you all the benefits, hook you up with a respawn and you will be in the know for everything. Every detail. I swear it.”

Hugh raised his eyebrows at her. That sounded too promising to be a real promise. It sounded like a desperate cry for help, like a mewling kitten who was too desperate for milk to admit it could not give back to the bother that was dying to feed it.

“Miss Pauling,” Hugh spoke in a calm and commanding voice. He could be as leader-like as he could be persuasive, after all. “You say these things, but given your history with the company, we know you cannot be trusted on any side.”

“I know, I know. I get it. You guys felt betrayed about the whole…cameras thing…and me working with RED _and_ BLU at the same time. I mean, that was part of the thing from the start. That was the Administrator’s set up. But listen! I may be one person, but I have an army. All I need are people who already want out to help me with the details.”

“What kind of details?” Hugh asked.

He was curious about the whole army bit, but he was sure that would be explained. Or he could just assume that she had made enough friends among mercenaries to count on them, but she could not reveal the truth to them, at least not yet.

“Let’s talk about these details,” Hugh offered, motioning to a chair that looked like it was falling apart.

 

*********************************************************************

 

June 2007

It was difficult to find a place to be okay with oneself, but there were often solutions for problems. Jane never thought he would live to see those solutions crop up. Twenty first century indeed! It was about time futuristic technology became something within his grasp! Of course, next would be hovercars and self-tying shoes. He could live without those, because there was something better.

“Mister Smith?” the tentative voice called his attention.

Still unused to English, the woman was careful with the words she used. Sometimes she seemed too careful. At least she had stopped saying things like “forgive my English” and “I’m sorry, I don’t know how say” a billion times. He was just glad that the Pyro she was with was a sweetheart. She seemed rather unsure of her English, but she never once apologized for it, feeling bold with the choices in her words.

Jane liked that girl, that Pyro. She never showed her face though. The only reason Jane knew it was a girl was because the doctor called her by a name, Yukina.

“So…you think you can…erm…fix me?” Jane asked, hopeful that the options were going to swing in his favor.

“D-don’t- don’t worry, Mr. Smith,” she said, waving a hand in the air. He was still not sure what this gesture meant. Wherever she was from, they probably made a lot of gestures with their hands. “I can assure you, with one hundred percent confidence,” she paused, thinking about her words for a minute, “that I can make the alterations you want.”

“You can?” he breathed a sigh of relief.

He had been given the pretense that this woman was a neurologist. That was what Miss Pauling said anyways. But the promise of change, any kind of change, was a gift from the heavens. Given what most people tried back in the day, he had been worried that this might have actually been an attempt at altering his brain.

“If you’ll come have a seat, I’ll explain it to you,” she patted the examination table gently.

Jane walked up to the table and hopped onto it. It was cold, with a fresh sheet of waxy paper that protected him from the germs of previous patients.

“Mind taking your shirt off?” the woman asked, tentative tone shaking.

Jane was more than happy to accommodate. He never felt like he should have to hide anyways. So when he pulled his shirt off and unbuckled the bra, he sighed with relief.

Cold fingers plucked the bra off, pulling it aside. A cold marker touched the soft breast. He jolted slightly, a bit taken aback by the touch. It was one thing for people to look, it was another to touch. But seeing her draw on his skin, it was clear that the intentions were for medical purposes. When she finished drawing her dotted lines, she closed the pen and met Jane’s gaze.

“This is where I’ll make an incision,” she explained, “We’ll cut in and remove fat and tissue that makes it sizeable. Remove some of the extra skin. Stitch it up.” Her hands were moving, gesturing to her breasts as if she was doing a quick job of what she was explaining. “When it is done, you will want some down time for healing. The medigun will help, but I would prescribe a couple of weeks, just to make sure. Besides, you need to be scanned into the respawn.”

“Right,” Jane nodded in agreement.

“It will heal with scars, but you said you did not mind scars,” her tone was assured, but her eyes were questioning Jane again.

Jane had affirmed this time and again. With himself, with people from before, with this doctor… He was ready for anything, even a few lifetime scars, to change his body to suit himself. Scars on his chest would be no less than any other scar on his body. He would take pride in those scars, if anything.

“Right,” Jane nodded, assuringly.

“And since you’ll have a couple weeks down, it would be a great time to start on testosterone, and probably something to balance out your dieting. You will want to be properly eating when we get around to the other procedures.”

“Other procedures?” he frowned.

“Yes, we can’t just-” she was cut off as a knock interrupted her. The double doors started swinging open to admit somebody.

The doctor acted quickly, snatching up Jane’s shirt to cover her with. Then, she turned to face Miss Pauling and the Spy who had entered with her. The doctor glared with distaste.

“Oh! Miss Pauling exclaimed, “So sorry, Medic. We need to speak with you though.”

“You know my policy, Miss Pauling,” the doctor spoke in a warning tone, “Call for a consultation. Don’t barge in on my other patients!”

“Miss Pauling,” the Spy turned to the woman, with a smooth gesture of his hand, “I’m pretty sure, as I told you before, that Andrew would neither like nor agree to this.”

“Give her a chance, Spy,” Miss Pauling insisted.

“I’m sure she is fantastic in her field,” he gestured to the doctor, “This has nothing to do with the doctor’s ability.”

“You haven’t even chanced to find out what she can do!” the woman argued.

“Miss Pauling!” the doctor barked, motioning to John.

He smiled awkwardly when Miss Pauling and the Spy looked at him. That was never a good way to be, awkward in front of people. Let alone shirtless. He suddenly felt self-conscious, as the reality of their presence during such a discussion she had just been in with the Medic, was shoving its way down his throat.

“H-hi Soldier,” Miss Pauling waved awkwardly. She had this weird understanding about John’s transition. Like, she understood how bad he wanted it, but not why.

“Please call and I’ll make an appointment with you,” the doctor told Pauling firmly, “In the meantime, I am with a patient!”

“Apologies,” the Spy said, taking Pauling by the arm and drawing her out of the infirmary.

The doctor turned back to John, “Where were we?”

He could only smile awkwardly. What part were they even at? He did not know anything about surgery. He was sure his face was still red from that weird interaction anyways. So much for feeling at ease about taking off his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final piece: If you have read 'Men of Red,' then you may be familiar with these new characters. If not, this is a hint of new characters to join in later stories.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this story. The last few chapters got difficult because I started losing sleep from work and stuff. It's difficult to keep up with work and still keep up with writing. Still, as far as fanfic writing goes, I think I did a decent job. I already have the sequel coming up. It is called 'Love Extensions.'
> 
> Sequel; Love Extensions: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8402170/chapters/19250662


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